


The strings that pierce our flesh

by plopdropflop



Series: The stitches that make us one [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Chenle is the best friend ever, Empath!Jisung, Morally Ambiguous Character, Morally questionable dream, NCT Dream Ensemble-centric, OT7 NCT Dream, Other, Please Read Trigger Warnings, Supernatural Elements, They're all in this don't worry, relationships are up to interpretation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plopdropflop/pseuds/plopdropflop
Summary: His life is nothing but a cacophony of emotions that don't belong to him, taking up all the space in his head and stripping him of his own thoughts and feelings. He's a coward, through and through, chained to the ground by his own abilities, his own past, his own future. His hyungs will tire of him someday. Chenle will leave him behind eventually.In the quaint training center disguised as a boarding school, a fourteen year old boy begins his new life, and slowly but surely makes a name for himself.The tale of Dream is a long one, and it all starts with a boy named Park Jisung.(Or: an AU where Jisung struggles to control his empathic abilities and deal with a strange innate power that only comes out during severe distress while simultaneously trying to live up to the expectations of the most terrifying, morally gray trainees their organization has ever fostered.)
Relationships: Lee Jeno & Na Jaemin, Na Jaemin & Park Jisung, Park Jisung & Zhong Chen Le, Park Jisung (NCT) & Everyone
Series: The stitches that make us one [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969990
Comments: 20
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings and content warnings for the whole series: torture, violence, uncomfortable sexual implications and content (? a bit hard to describe without context but yeah) 
> 
> I deleted the old version and uploaded a newer, longer first chapter, and trust me, even if you've read the previous version there's a *lot* changed and i mean a *lot* so please do read the whole thing again. 
> 
> Last time I was a bit lost on how to progress Jisung's character, but now it's so much more clear to me, and updating doesn't feel like a chore anymore. I am going to be very busy with school eventually and Im hoping writing can be an escape from that hellhole. 
> 
> This may be Jisung centric at glance but I will include all the dream characters, hopefully all with major roles so please look forward to it.
> 
> Please please be aware that I dislike writing romance so all the relationships are very ambiguous and up to interpretation. I feel like clearly defined labels wouldn't make sense in a universe like this anyways, but if its your cup of tea then you're more than welcome to imagine their relationships that way. 
> 
> LASTLY, and this is VERY important; this work has fucked up themes. Fucked up material. Fucked up scenes. I do not condone any of it in real life, however as a reader you have a responsibility to distinguish fiction from reality and if you are unable to do so — no judgment — then please click away. Please don't send me any comments about what Im depicting here; I've warned you, and if you're continuing to read your are consenting to seeing all that.

  
  
  
  


Johnny Suh is a well-respected - or rather, feared - commander, who had started out a scraggly orphan boy sleeping between mice and bags of garbage, who had accepted the all-too suspicious offer to join a prestigious organization without much of a thought, who had fought tooth and nail to drag himself to the top amongst his bloody contenders, and had finally emerged into such a high position of power that even the infamous 127 obey his wishes without question. 

His intelligent eyes scrape over their newest recruits, all standing in a straight line, their shoulders tense and posture defensive. Some hold their heads high, trying to catch his eye, while a few cast their gazes low, trying to blend into the walls as much as possible. 

The rest have their gazes fixated on a target. Or rather, a kid.

Amongst the heads and heads of teenage boys and girls, who have grown well into their heights, stands a boy so small and skinny that even a gust of wind must be able to blow him away. If Johnny were to stand next to him, he’s not sure the boy would even come up to his knees. 

Their gazes drip of amusement, a mocking glint present in all their eyes. After all, what can a child accomplish that they couldn’t do better? How can someone so delicate looking even hope to survive the gruesome training the organization was infamous for? 

Johnny was once like the little boy. The weight of everyone’s stares on him suffocating and patronizing. And here he is now, ruling above them all with an iron grip, with no one daring to go against his commands. 

Rule one of their industry; never underestimate anyone.

* * *

_ You'll be the best of them all. You'll rise above everyone, you'll reign hell upon all of them.  _

* * *

“Yo, Jisung, catch this!” 

A wet sock is hurled at his face, smacking against his skin. He does not flinch, rather, he keeps his gaze on his bloody hands, scrubbing the dirt and blood out. The cuts sting, and the pressure of the water does nothing to soothe the pain, but Jisung shows no reaction as he finishes washing up, drying his hands on his threadbare pants. 

Such injuries are a small price to pay for setting a new record for their latest obstacle course; miles above anyone else. Of course, being bested by anyone, let alone a fourteen year old, let alone  _ Jisung _ , was enough to crush Dongwon's pride, and of course, he wouldn't let Jisung off easy. 

Jisung doesn't know what they accomplish from this. 

"Do you think your scores will improve by bullying me? You keep wasting your time trying to assert your dominance, instead of actually practicing, and that's why you keep falling behind in everything," Jisung remarks as he fixes his hair, standing on his toes to reach the mirror. 

Dongwon bristles, and Jisung hears his heart-rate speed up as he marches over to Jisung with heavy steps. He's slammed against a wall, mind overwhelmed with feelings of  _ rage-fury-envy _ that don't belong to him, as the back of his head collides painfully with the polished tiles. He feels his breath escape his lungs as a leg connects with his stomach. 

" Know your place," Dongwon hisses at him, pulling at his hair harshly, his emotions overflowing through his words, processed directly into Jisung's head.

And there is nothing Jisung can do to fight back. 

Because sure, he might be the fastest trainee they've ever had. Sure, he might be agile, flexible, and quick-witted enough to dodge most attacks. But going on the offensive…. he knows he  _ can _ , but every hit he lands sparks pain in his  _ own  _ nerves. A nasty side effect of his… abilities… that he has no idea how to overcome. It's not something he can ask the hyungs for advice, for he has never revealed this part of himself to anyone. 

The only bright side to it all is that their last training session for the week ended a few hours ago, and Jisung wouldn’t have to throw any punches with a bloody hand, feeling twice the pain anyone else would feel, or try to maintain his balance with a pounding head when he's too tired to maintain the mental barriers that blocks everyone else's feelings from mingling with his. 

Today, he could just snuggle under his covers and relax. Most of the trainees would be using the rare free time to study or sleep; no one's stray nightmares or emotions would disturb him under his precious covers.

Of course, Jisung has to study too, but he doesn’t see a chore in reading through his textbooks while tucked under thin covers. He finds it enjoyable to learn new things; while other trainees grumble and mumble about the dense content they have to memorize, Jisung eats everything up like a man starved for years.

Dongwon finds his lack of reaction to most things boring, and he’s left alone soon enough. It’s not that Jisung doesn’t feel, it’s just that his mind is so used to feeling everyone  _ else's  _ emotions that his own barely peeps through anymore. Only overwhelming feelings, like anxiety and fear exist within his brain now. It's been like that ever since he was seven, ever since his father had kicked him out.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the man's image, he straightens up and rubs his head. He was sure to bruise by tomorrow, but then again, it’s not like marks of purple and black are uncommon when they spend half their week getting their asses handed to them by the instructors.

Clad under masks, their identity hidden to all, the infamous instructors have no sympathy, no pity, no empathy; heck, Jisung doesn’t think they even feel pain. It's unsettling, being around them, for Jisung is used to other's vague thoughts always buzzing around in his head, but around them it's always dead silent. 

The worst of it was the time an instinct was caught stealing from the organization.

It was a gruesome performance, one that was made public for them all to watch. The instructor was made to kneel in the courtyard with the harsh sun biting at his naked back, and chains digging into his wrists as he was tortured over and over again with sharp knives and burning acid, until the day had faded into night and what was left was a steaming carcass. Through it all, not once did the man feel any sign of discomfort, his face bare for all of them to see. Not a sound, not a grimace,  _ nothing. _

Jisung had watched it all, the emptiness terrifying him, unused to seeing such brutal torture without feeling the effects himself. His ears had focused on the steady heart-beat of the instructor, and he remembers wondering what the  _ fuck  _ they went through to turn out like this; soulless, unable to experience fear, pain, or even regret.

He remembers throwing up right afterwards. 

(Chenle had rubbed his back through it all, but there was a gleeful grin on his face, one that told Jisung that the boy had very much enjoyed the show the instructors had put on. He wishes he could share with Chenle,  _ why  _ he's so sensitive to things like this, but he doesn't even know if Chenle would believe him).

For only a brief second after that show, his brain had been invaded with second-thoughts of pursuing a career in this industry. He had discarded them immediately; only an idiot wouldn’t realize that the event was made public to tell them, hey, if you go against us, this is what will happen to you too.

He doesn’t have a choice in it. There’s no point in thinking about it further. He just has to try his best to meet their standards.

And well, if he doesn’t, off to the lab he goes, to be experimented upon by the most ruthless of scientists. 

Before he knows it, he’s reached the dorms. No one spares him a glance, everyone busy at the large table fixed onto one entire wall, poring over their books. He ignores them as well, rummaging inside his bag, pulling out the thick anatomy textbook they were being assessed on in a week.

Inside, all the pages are torn.

He gulps, placing the book back with a trembling hand and setting his bag gently on the floor. He can’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart, unsure of what to feel.

He runs to the bathroom. Emotions are useless and unnecessary, but that night, Jisung found himself crying an ocean’s worth of tears.

* * *

Jisung doesn't know what led him to do this, staring up at the much taller boy in a dark, abandoned practice room with no witnesses to see them. Here, Dongwon could do anything he wanted to Jisung, and no one would know. Here, there is no prey but Jisung. 

Still, he is angry. What started out a wave of hopelessness and sorrow soon washed away into burning rage, and he had matched right out of the cubicle to confront Dongwon without giving it a second thought. 

Now, he regrets it. Regrets being blinded by anger when he should've known he stood no chance. Never, in the nine months of training, has anyone confronted Dongwon. Not even his other victims. They boy was simply older, taller, and broader than them all. He could snap their fragile necks but they couldn't even put a dent on him.

Dongwon's lips curl into smirk —  _ amusement-excitment-restlessness — _ and he takes a step towards Jisung. On instinct, Jisung steps back, suddenly terrified, his nerves frozen and his blood cold. 

Fists curl into his collar, and he's lifted up. A moment to relish in the weightlessness, before he's slammed onto the ground with no mercy. Pain flares through every corner of his body, his skin weeping as he took hit after hit to already bruised limbs. 

For the second time that day, Jisung cries. His brain is struggling to distinguish his own emotions from Dongwon's, resulting in an overwhelming cacophony resounding in his head, one that renders him unresponsive and useless. He desperately prays for it to  _ stop. _

And then everything goes silent, and Dongwon stills. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Jisung raises his head, eyes widening as he sees Dongwon's face. 

Pale. Shaking. Terrified.

_ Fear-regret-panic-anticipation-fear-fear-fear-fear-fear-fear-fear-fear _

His eyes are fixated on something beyond Jisung's vision. Slowly, Jisung turns his head to find what was scaring the boy so badly. 

In the doorway stands a figure. With slow steps, it moves forward, until it steps into the faint light that shines through a crack in the ceiling. A face is illuminated; handsome and pristine, unlike most of the trainees who walk around with scars and black eyes. His frame is tall, almost as much as Dongwon, and his lithe limbs are graceful as he walks, thick brown hair bouncing up and down with the movement.

_ Amusement-glee-excitment-happiness _

"J- J…" Dongwon stutters, his eyes blown open, face so pale his veins protrude. He's sweating buckets, a far image from the daunting bully he was to Jisung. 

"Uh - uh," the boy drawls in a husky, deep voice. "No names, remember?" 

Dongwon responds with a terrified nod, as if someone has a gun trained to his head, as if his reactions mean life or death. 

"What are you doing to the poor boy here, hmm? Dirtying  _ my _ practice room?" The figure's hand gently cups Dongwon's face, thumbing across a faint scar on his cheek. "Did you ask for my permission?" 

Dongwon visibly gulps, his adam's apple bobbing up and down. His hands are trembling from where it's digging into his pants. Jisung wishes they wouldn't do this here. Having a third person's potent emotions invade his space is giving him a headache, regardless of how much the familiar heartbeat comforts him.

"N - no, I didn't," Dongwon finally answers, and the boy clicks his tongue. 

"I suppose last week wasn't enough to teach you a lesson. Shall we have another session?" He asks, his lips curling into a falsely kind smile. 

_ Fear-fear-fear-fear-fear-fear-fear _

"N - no…" Dongwon whispers out, then clamps his mouth shut as if he uttered a sin.

"No?" The boy coos. "Are you going against me, hmm? Oh dear, what a naughty boy."

A few seconds of heavy silence pass, atmosphere so thick that even Jisung feels suffocated by it. The ground is harsh against his injured skin, and he shifts uncomfortably. Unfortunately, this draws the attention of the boy who regards him with an amused gaze. 

Dongwon, on the other hands, looks like he's about to cry and piss his pants all at once, and Jisung can't help but feel a sick sort of satisfaction at seeing his bully being brought down like this. He knows he’s going to pay hell for it later in this very practice room, but for now, he lets himself revel in the rare feeling.

Upon seeing Dongwon's pathetic expression, the boy barks out a laugh. Clapping his hand on Dongwon's back, like what a friend might do, he says, "oh loosen up, darling, I was just joking."

Dongwon's eyes light up with hope, but it's immediately extinguished when the boy's expression contorts into something more sinister, more threatening.

"I better not see you again. Stay out of my sight from now on, you're not the prodigy you presented yourself as. Oh and, one final thing," he snaps his fingers, then points it towards Jisung. "Stay away from him too. I don't need to remind you what will happen if you don't, right?" 

"O- of course not!" Dongwon responds immediately, and the boy smiles even harder. 

"Now, leave."

And Dongwon is gone in a flash. 

The boy crouches down and extends a hand to him. Jisung knows better than to accept it, and ignoring his screaming limbs, he gets up on his own.

“Jaemin hyung,” he greets curtly, brushing the dust off his clothes and furiously wiping his tears away. This was the worst position for Jaemin to find him in; he knows his training hours are going to get amped up by a hundred, as if they aren’t bad enough already. On top of all that, he now owes Jaemin a favor, for helping him scare away Dongwon, and he knows his hyung will use it to full advantage.

_ Mirth-amusement-cheer _

Of course, Jisung is lucky Jaemin has an inexplicable soft spot for him. Or well, as soft as someone like Jaemin could get. To the other trainees indebted to him, he was ruthless; using them for his experiments, testing his newly crafted interrogation methods on them, locking them up for days. He never gets in trouble for it, because it’s  _ Jaemin _ , one of their star trainees, a part of their most gifted bunch, collectively labeled as  _ Dream. _

For Jisung, the repayments were more along the lines of  _ clean my room for me, _ or, _ wash my clothes for me _ . Still, it’s annoying, and despite knowing how lucky he was to have a senior help him for so little, he can’t help but dread it.

Spoiled, is what Chenle calls him.

Jisung couldn't deny that. 

He looks up from his clothes to find Jaemin eyeing him like a hawk. Moments like this are unsettling, when no discernible emotions leak from Jaemin. His gaze rests heavy on Jisung's skin, until he finally relaxes and reaches out to twist Jisung's cheek between his slender fingers —  _ satisfaction —  _ his grin sharpening when Jisung yelps in pain. 

"What was going on?" Jaemin asks, in his typical saccharine voice, patronising yet leaving no room for arguments. Jaemin's tone was a tightrope walk all on its own.

Jisung sighs, as the fingers on his cheek pinch harder, accepting his fate as Jaemin's personal play-dough. He's just glad it wasn't Donghyuck who found him, for he would've made Jisung recount every breath he took in the weeks he hadn't seen them. Jaemin dislikes too much chatter; a short explanation would suffice for him.

He shifts his weight from his right to the left as the pain in his calves flares up, scraped from when he had hit the ground. Jaemin's eyes fly to his legs immediately, but he doesn't do anything to ease Jisung's pain. Of course he doesn't. He's done enough nice things for one day, by helping him out in the first place. 

"He's been bothering me for a while now," Jisung admits, though he knows they all are aware. Jisung doesn't know how, but they have eyes on him everywhere, from his training scores, to his exam marks, to his dorm-mates and instructors,  _ everything _ . 

It's a bit daunting, knowing all his steps were being tracked, but it's a small price to pay for being on the good side of the most elite seniors they have — a position others would kill to be in.  _ Have _ killed, because Renjun had once gotten an offering in the form of a mangled fifteen year old, one that he had ignored easily.

Jisung knows, more than meeting the instructors standards, he has to meet  _ their _ standards which are above and beyond what a human should be capable of. They train him, tutor him, teach him — for what reason, he still doesn't know — but he's falling behind regardless.

He glances at Jaemin, who waits patiently for him to continue, his intelligent eyes piercing through all of Jisung's walls with ease, peeking into his inner conflict. Jaemin doesn't need any special abilities to read people. His gaze can read through even the most solid walls, and when it comes to someone built of glass like Jisung, it's almost a game to him.

Dream could have anyone they wanted. Every trainee worships the ground they walk on, yearns to earn a spot in their good books. There were many miles better than Jisung could ever be. What use is only dodging and evading going to be in a battlefield? As an assassin? It was only time before they realized Jisung was a sunk cost and let him go.

He shakes his head free of the thoughts and continues. "He ripped up my anatomy textbook. I have an exam on it next week."

Jaemin's eyes sharpen at that —  _ disappointment-disapproval-annoyance-pity.  _ Jisung doesn't understand Jaemin's brand of protectiveness towards him; if Jisung trips on a rock, he'd rather crush the rock rather than help Jisung up. Moreover, Jaemin hasn't really done anything to stop Dongwon all this time — probably a test to see if Jisung would defend himself or not. He supposes destruction of personal property is where Jaemin deems a line has been crossed, and not the multiple bruises on Jisung's skin. 

He feels sorry for what Jaemin will do to Dongwon later. And the help — albeit, weeks late — is appreciated. 

After a beat, Jaemin speaks. "I'll help you out. Meet me here tomorrow."

Jisung winces at that. Jaemin… Jaemin likes perfection above all else. Tutoring sessions with him were somehow just as gruelling as training sessions with Renjun. And it's  _ anatomy _ . Jaemin's favorite subject. Jisung is sure he'll be made to memorize the entire chapter they were being assessed on — and Jaemin wouldn't make it easy for him if he drops even a single comma. 

He just hopes Jaemin doesn't make him practice anything they learn in real life, with whatever body-of-the-week he has stored in the janitor's closet. He doesn't have the stomach for it, despite how much Chenle finds it funny. Jaemin's skilled fingers  _ hurt  _ to experience, the one time he had stumbled upon an interrogation was  _ agonising  _ despite the fact that the distance between them when it happened should have diluted the pain.

Jaemin stops rubbing his cheeks and moves his hand up to wipe the remnants of tears from his face. That achingly fond look is on his face — the one that's too genuine, the one that's accompanied by  _ feeling _ . Seniors weren't supposed to have emotions, or so he believed until he had walked in one night on Renjun crying, tucked between Donghyuck and Jaemin's chests.

"I'll be off then," Jaemin says, letting him go. "Be careful with your injuries," he adds, after a final glance, a strange mix of nonchalance and concern painting his words.

Jisung nods wordlessly, and once Jaemin's figure retreats out of sight, he relaxes. Something in his hyungs always makes his muscles tense, his brain screaming at him to escape whenever they're in the vicinity. He supposes it's a result of them not only surviving the hell that was fourth year, but excelling in it. Your simple presence becomes a threat to anyone with basic instincts, no action needed for anyone to react defensively. 

That's where Dongwon fails. He must've been one of the trainees foolishly trying to get Jaemin's favor. But between Dongwon — painfully eager to prove his power, his worth — and Jaemin, who carries himself with a confidence that he doesn't have to  _ prove _ anything, that everyone should instinctively  _ know _ he is above them, it's clear who truly got something out of it. 

He wonders if he'll ever reach that level.

He supposes there's no point thinking about it now, not when his body is screaming for him to rest, his heart only barely calm. Tutoring sessions with Jaemin required a lot of mental preparation, and proper sleep because he knows Jaemin won't let him leave the practice room until a new day has passed.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Jisung asks blankly, staring at Chenle, who lounges on Jisung's bed like he owns it. The other trainees are avoiding looking at him, probably terrified out of their wits, because it's goddamn Zhong Chenle. Infamous for skipping ahead three years of training solely because of how intelligent and cunning he is and for being chummy with 127, he's the undeniably spoilt, bratty adopted son of the head of the organization, wielding more power over everyone than even the instructors or supervisors. Chenle's adoptive father would do  _ anything  _ Chenle asks, the boy having the terrifying man wrapped around his finger. 

He likes to boast this fact in front of Jisung a lot, wishing he would take advantage of it to finally kick his old man to the curb, but Jisung never accepts the unspoken offer. The less he has to think about his own father, the better.

"Can't I just come here and visit my best friend?" Chenle purrs out, like a cat, slinging his leg off the bed and patting the empty space next to him. His bleach-fried green hair sits atop his head like a beacon in the dull greys of the dorm. No one else could get away with dyed hair in training premises. 

Knowing better than to say no, Jisung takes a seat on the recently washed sheets, trying to let the aroma of detergent distract him from the arms winding around his waist. 

"Let's sneak out," Chenle whispers, right in his ears, and he yelps, only to be immediately silenced by a hand around his mouth. "We won't get caught," he adds, when Jisung opens his mouth to retort. "And it's not like I'd let you get in trouble even if we do." 

"Sneak out and do what, exactly?" Jisung huffs, trying to pry Chenle off of him. Skin-on-skin contact always heightens his abilities, he always tries to avoid it if he can.

"Just head out, grab a milkshake or something," Chenle answers, tugging at Jisung's hair. 

Milkshakes. As if they aren't trainees forced to live on strict diets, no processed sugars allowed within the organization premise. The only indulgence Jisung gets is when Jaemin is feeling particularly nice, letting him snack on his hidden stash of sugar cubes. 

He supposed there's a world of difference between him and Chenle. Things like sneaking out, or having fun, required no second thoughts to him. Jisung, on the other hand, has a dreaded tutoring session the very next day,  _ his free day, _ but he knows Chenle won't take no for an answer. 

He sighs and accepts his defeat. 

"Fine. Wake me up later. I'm going to sleep."

Chenle grins at him, then places a wet kiss on his cheek, sloppy and disgusting and enough to make Jisung recoil, and then he's gone as quick as he came. 

Jisung is glad no one is looking at him, for he's burning red. Quickly, he ducks under his covers, and tries his best to rid his brain of muddled thoughts. Images of his parents, his hyungs, Chenle, the torn up textbook, and Dongwon all whirl around his brain like the cold soup they serve every morning. 

It's a ritual he goes through every night, and his hyungs refuse to give him any sleeping medicine, telling him it's better to get used to as little sleep as possible because there's a point in his life where it'll become a luxury rather than a necessity. 

He believes their advice, as always. He doesn't know why he has so much faith in a group of people who laugh when they strip bodies of their lives, for why would they care about Jisung out of everyone?

But he's always been naive, and ironically, he's aware of this fact. He likes their company, as fucked up as they are, and he likes that they make him feel cared for, regardless of how harsh they are. Even with his abilities, their exact opinion on him is a mystery to him — he thinks he's somewhere between a chore, a pet, and an experiment, but he purposely deludes himself into thinking he's a potential new member — but it can't be too bad if they're still keeping him around after all this time.

He hasn't seen them in a while. Seeing Jaemin and Chenle today indicates they're all back from whatever mission they got sent on.

He hopes they invite him over soon.

He misses them. 

* * *

" _ You'll be my magnum opus. They'll finally see what they've missed out on."  _

_ "You're so beautiful Jisung, so charming, so pretty, you'll fit right in." _

_ "Oh, baby, you've only got a year left, aren't you excited?"  _

_ "Baby, stop talking to those brats. They'll lead you astray." _

_ "What are these scores, Park Jisung?"  _

_ "Do you want me to teach you another lesson?"  _

* * *

His frown is hidden under the scarf Chenle wrapped around him, snug and warm in contrast to the biting snow. Temperature resistance is a second year lesson, and he dreads it because he's shivering even under the layers Chenle tucked him under. 

In contrast, Chenle is wearing a simple t-shirt and loose pants, worn out shoes speaking nothing of the wealth he owned. It's not that he's humble. He's just lazy and prefers stealing clothes out of Donghyuck's closet instead. 

Waking up had been a chore, and he's still drowsy as he sips on his hot chocolate. He wasn't crazy enough to get a milkshake in this weather, not like Chenle, who sips on a gigantic, blasphemous concoction of chocolate, cookies, and ice cream. The owners of Neo Cafe' turn a blind eye to them, and so do the other organization members eating there, though Jisung feels the bit of  _ curiosity-confusion-fear  _ in the air that's always present wherever Chenle goes.

"How was the job?" Jisung asks, letting the steam warm his face. He's not actually allowed to ask this, for jobs were confidential, but Chenle doesn't stick to the rules like his hyungs do. He has no worry of retribution. He lets Jisung know everything, from the gory details to the boring tidbits where they wait in hiding for something to happen.

"Eh. He gave in too quick. Jaemin hyung told me I did great, but it was disappointing, you know?" 

Disappointing. As if getting a compliment from Jaemin, of all people, meant nothing. 

"Riiight," Jisung answers, and Chenle laughs, because of course Jisung doesn't know. He's weak, both in character and in build, he can never relate to the stories Chenle tells him. Everytime Chenle's  _ thrill-exciment-joy  _ enters his mind, it's like being attacked by a foreign parasite, making him feel uncomfortable and fidgety.

There's a lull in conversation, which is a bit strange since Chenle usually never shuts up. Jisung appreciates mindless chatter, especially if it's from Chenle. It gives his mind something to latch onto, a distraction from anything foreign that sneaks in.

He takes the opportunity to glance at the clock, wincing when it reads 3AM. At this point, it would be better to stay awake all night and attend tutoring, because Jaemin would be pissed if he oversleeps and turns up late. 

He turns to look at Chenle, a bit surprised by the pensive look on his face. 

"What's up?" he asks. 

"Jisung…" Chenle hesitates, which is already weird enough, but the vulnerability shining in his eyes is what makes Jisung panic. 

"Chenle…" 

Chenle sighs. "Look, Jisung, your first year is almost over. You have no choice but to graduate, but at the rate you're going…" 

Ah. Yeah. As if he isn't already aware he's going to fail if he doesn't figure out how to throw a punch. He's spent six months getting his ass kicked, first by the instructors, then by Renjun, and he still hasn't improved. He can dodge, sure, but counter? Or attack? Impossible. He knows the theory behind it, but he's too reluctant, too hesitant. He doesn't  _ have  _ it in him to endure the pain. How unfair, that anything he tries will hurt him as much as it will hurt his victim.

And besides, he doesn't have the heart for it either.  _ Too nice,  _ he thinks.

"Jisung, I want you to make it out of here. Start joining me and the others on our jobs. What's holding you back?" Chenle asks, reaching over to grasp Jisung's warm hands in his own cold ones, running over the healing scars from the previous day's fall. 

_ You're so beautiful, Jisung. So charming, so pretty. So pretty. So pretty. So so very pretty. You'll fit right in. My little Jisung, my darling baby, you'll be the best one they've ever seen. _

He doesn't reply. He lowers his gaze instead, to where their hands are intertwined. The physical contact intensifies Chenle's  _ apprehension-concern-care.  _ Chenle's hands are pale, tiny compared to his, yet they can do so much more than Jisung could even dream. 

His shoulders fall. Chenle gets up, sliding next to him instead, wrapping him up in his cold arms.

Trainees don't have emotions. Trainees can't exhibit kindness. That's how you survive. That's how you win. 

But Chenle has never followed the rules has he? 

So for one night, he accepts his friend's offer, and crumples into Chenle's embrace, burying his face into his shoulders, letting himself bask in the unfamiliar familiarity, the steady heartbeats soothing him as he allows himself to indulge in foreign happiness and love for once, while Chenle holds him through it all. 

He spends the night with Chenle, until the sun rises high, until the birds wake up and the sky is set alight. They sneak back in, and Chenle bids him goodbye with another kiss to the cheek. This time, Jisung doesn't pull back. This time, he accepts the warmth.

* * *

The practice room that Dongwon had been in didn't actually belong to Jaemin, or any of his hyungs, but they've long staked claim on it and no one dares to overstep their boundaries. It's abandoned, slightly run down, but it's spacious, tucked in a hidden corner. In a twisted way, it's become a comfort to him. 

But of course, life is never on his side, and the moment he steps near it, his stomach churns and he almost gags from the sheer  _ terror-anxiety-fear  _ that floods his senses, twisting through every crevice until it's all he can feel. A heartbeat so loud and rushed Jisung is worried it'll collapse on itself. He quickly rushes into the room, wondering what the fuck was going on.

A trembling boy kneels on the floor, Jaemin stepping harshly on his head, quiet whimpers filling the room. Jisung feels his heart seize in his chest at the chilling expression on Jaemin's face —  _ rage-anger-fury —  _ his perfect brows sculpted into a frown, his eyes set into a harsh glare. It's a look Jisung has never seen, for even when Jaemin was disapproving of him, his heart was always calm, patient beyond belief. 

Jisung realizes, with sudden, overwhelming clarity, why everyone is so terrified of them. It's different hearing about it than actually  _ seeing _ it happen in front of your eyes. He realizes the standard he has to live up to. 

Jaemin doesn't spare him a glance, instead staring down at the kneeling figure, and when he speaks, it's quiet and terrifying all at once. 

"What do you think you were doing?" 

It's now that Jisung notices the object clutched in Jaemin's hand; a dangling necklace, shimmering where the light catches it. 

His heart stops when he recognizes the object. It's Renjun's , his dearest possession, one that he doesn't allow anybody to touch. Hidden against his collarbones at all the times of day, it's obvious there's sentimental value attached to it, which — considering it's  _ Renjun _ , who's as apathetic as one can be — means a lot. 

And the boy has foolishly tried to steal it. 

_Of_ _course_ Jaemin was pissed. They — Jaemin, Donghyuck, Renjun, and Chenle — are tight knit and deeply protective of each other, and messing with even one of them meant all of them would strike. 

The boy doesn't answer, only cries harder, and Jisung wants to tell him to shut up and  _ talk _ , because there's nothing Jaemin hates more than unnecessary noise and unanswered questions. 

He feels his blood freeze when Jaemin reaches into his pocket. 

"H- hyung —" he stutters out before his brain could stop him from doing so. 

Jaemin's eyes fly to him, and Jisung feels a jolt course through his body at being on the receiving end of that murderous gaze. His throat closes up, and he gulps, before glancing at the body lying on the floor. A life is on the line, he tells himself, forcing himself to continue. 

"C - can you please let him go?" he asks. A request, not an order. 

Jaemin's features relax into something unreadable, something blank. A few unsettling seconds pass, as he takes Jisung in, before he turns his head back and speaks, "get out of my sight before I change my mind." 

The boy is gone in a flash, an almost humorous parallel to Dongwon. 

Jaemin stares at Jisung wordlessly while he tucks the necklace into his pocket, his expression giving nothing away about the  _ disapproval-disappointment-annoyance  _ he's feeling. Jisung shifts awkwardly, extremely uncomfortable and anxious, wishing Jaemin would just scream at him and his glass heart and get it over with. 

Instead, Jaemin takes a seat, and pats the space in front of him. Jisung sits down, stiff, his muscles still tense, ready to bolt. 

Jaemin's old textbook is set on the floor. "I'll let you borrow this for now," he says, thumbing through the yellowing pages. 

"T - thank you," Jisung responds immediately, flinching when Jaemin regards him with the same blank stare. 

It all goes well from there. Jaemin quizzes him, then reteaches what he had missed and quizzes him again, repeating the process until all that is in Jisung's mind is replaced by diagrams and scientific jargon. His brain hurts, if that's even possible, and he feels way too tired for someone who was just sitting all day. 

He's still on edge, but once he realized Jaemin wouldn't do anything, he puts a conscious effort to relax. And it's going fine, until he notices the ring on Jaemin's finger. 

A very familiar ring.

"Hyung…" he speaks, though he can't hear himself over the blood rushing through his head, his ears ringing, his heart sinking. "W - who gave you that?" 

Jaemin stares at the ring, all pretty and silver with a blue jewel embedded in the middle, made for slender fingers like his. Jisung remembers the ring very well, the way it sliced his skin, the way it dug into his neck, the way it sent chills down his very being.

"Taeyong did," Jaemin answers after a beat, eyeing Jisung for his reaction. 

His heart drops.

_ So beautiful. So charming. So pretty. So pretty. So so very pretty. You'll fit right in. _

And with a growing horror, he realizes that his father was already making his move.

* * *

He remains distracted for the rest of the session, and he can tell it's beginning to wear Jaemin's patience down, his carefully constructed expression faltering and his disappointment heightening whenever Jisung stumbles over his words. But he can't help it, not when the light keeps catching onto the jewel on Jaemin's ring, shining like a beacon into Jisung's eyes, forcing him backwards into a sea of memories he'd rather drown in than navigate. 

When Jisung messes up the valves of the heart for the nth time, Jaemin slams the book shut, grabs the ring off his finger, and chucks it into the distance. 

"Jaemin hyung!" Jisung can't help but scream out, watching as the object rolls away into a dusty corner, as if it's worth nothing, as if it doesn't have an avalanche of memories buried within that chatoyant glare. 

Jaemin doesn't respond, merely stares at him with an annoyed glare. "You're wasting  _ my  _ precious time, Jisung," he says, emphasising his position as a senior as he always does when he's ticked off. 

"I'm sorry," Jisung is quick to apologize, shifting in his seat. His brain hasn't calmed down. Images upon images layer themselves and spread thin through the void of his mind, and he's unable to concentrate on anything substantial. He's too overwhelmed. 

Jaemin sighs, placing the book down, reaching over and snapping his fingers in front of Jisung's face. 

"Listen to me, Jisung," he says, firm and serious, but his eyes are kind when Jisung meets his gaze. The contrast is unsettling, even more so combined with Jaemin's typical relaxed yet rigid posture. 

"I understand you have a lot on your mind," Jaemin begins, a rare gentleness painting his careful words. "We all do, Jisung. It's impossible not to."

Jisung nods, unsure of where this is going, but doing his best to listen. 

"But thinking is a luxury you can't afford here. Not anymore. There's a difference between you and us, and that's that  _ you _ let those thoughts interfere with your actions.  _ You  _ let your mindset control you more than you control it." He sighs, before continuing, tongue sharp as a whip. "To be frank, Jisung, no one here cares about how sad your life was, or cares about you in general. How many demons you battle inside is meaningless when it's your outside performance that matters. Everyone went through shit, but the difference lies in how they deal with it. If they mope over it, like you do,  _ constantly,  _ then they'll eventually be left behind. Your brain has no need for the past anymore. Let it go."

Jaemin's face was impassive, voice calm as if he hadn't just given Jisung the biggest slap in the face possible. He knows, objectively, Jaemin's words are born out of years of experience, spoken out of his own strange desire of looking out for Jisung in his own odd way. But  _ still.  _ It doesn't hurt any less. 

"I thought  _ you guys _ cared about me," is what he finds himself saying.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow, and embarrassment floods his every vein, as he feels himself flush from top to bottom.  _ Why did he say that?  _ He's  _ mortified.  _

There's a beat, as Jaemin stares him down. Then —  _ fondness —  _ his expression softens, as he picks up the textbook again. 

"Let's go through this one more time," he says, quiet, but the implication rings clear, and Jisung is left reeling at the thought.

But it's not enough. It's not  _ direct.  _ It does nothing to soothe Jisung's nerves. He wants a proper answer, but he knows he can't demand it out of Jaemin. 

_ A spoilt brat.  _ Chenle was right. 

Chenle was right about a lot of things, it seemed.

* * *

Jaemin lets him out after curfew, the sun already dipping low into the horizon, and the stars taking its place. The guards positioned outside tilt their heads at him, but say nothing, as he meekly walks towards his dorm with Jaemin a looming presence over his shoulder. 

"Good night," Jisung says, as they stop in front of the wooden door. "And thank you." 

For just a fraction of a second, Jaemin seems distracted, his eyes darting to something behind Jisung, before settling back on his face again. He nods, then takes his leave. 

Jisung stares at Jaemin's retreating figure, something akin to dread pooling in his stomach.  _ Something  _ is setting his alarms off, and he tenses involuntarily. 

Footsteps, quiet, but they fill up the empty silence. Jisung turns around immediately, making eye contact with a boy. Jet-black hair, bruises all over his face, and skinny limbs. His eyes are tired, but they curve into crescents when he sees Jisung. A hint of a genuine smile dances on his lips —  _ happy-content-excited. _

A guard pushes him, and the boy stumbles. 

"Walk," the guard barks, and the boy hastily looks away and picks up his steps. 

And then they're gone. 

Jisung wouldn't think much of it usually. Perhaps it was someone stupidly breaking curfew without a senior to protect them from the guards. Getting beat up as a penalty is technically not in the rules, but it's not like the guards ever follows protocol, not when the rush of power constantly gets to their heads and leaves them exerting authority whenever they can. 

But the boy…. he had  _ smiled.  _ Smiles were rare in the organization, and nonexistent between him and his batch-mates. The only unfiltered smiles he gets are from Chenle, the rest are always tinted with something too sharp to be genuine. 

Not only that, but for someone in such a terrifying position, being tossed around by the guards, there wasn't even a  _ hint  _ of fear. Only positive emotions, ones that Jisung  _ never  _ feels inside the dorms.

He doesn't know why, but it unsettles him. Opening the door to a dozen sleeping bodies, he tip-toes his way in and buries himself underneath the covers. 

Sleep is a luxury, but tonight, it overtakes him like a blanket.

* * *

The exam goes well. His brain relays Jaemin's careful instructions to his hands without a hitch, and completes the paper in record time, getting up and shoving it into their instructor's hand before getting out of the stuffy classroom. 

Still another hour left for the exam to end, leaving him with rare free time. 

Of course, as always, news gets to  _ them  _ immediately, and Jisung finds his power-nap rudely interrupted when he's hauled up by the collar and thrown off the bed. 

He's too tired to go along with it, and he glares at the offending figure — Donghyuck — who only grins at him like Jisung is a particularly adorable kitten. He's always looking at Jisung like that; like Jisung is one of his experiments, something to observe and pick apart for his own amusement. His eyes are sharp as ever and his skin glows even in the dim light of the room, and Jisung is viciously reminded of how small he feels, crouched on the ground like this.

"Come on, practice time," Donghyuck says, a gleam in his eyes, one that promises nothing good. 

" _ Now?"  _ Jisung can't help but shriek. He's not prepared, not for the mental agony he  _ knows  _ he'll be subjected to. There's no way Jaemin didn't snitch about his run in with his bully at the practice room to them. There's no way they'll go easy on him, not today.

"Yes, now," Donghyuck says impatiently, hauling Jisung up by the arm and dragging him outside with a strength that his limbs shouldn't possess. Jisung is powerless to protest. He only hopes he can keep down the anxiety that's beginning to claw at his insides. 

He  _ hates  _ practice. 

When they get to the practice room, he ducks. The knife misses him, barely an inch between him and the blade. It hits the wall and bounces off, and Jisung stares at it in disdain.  _ E _ veryday, Renjun does this, and every time Jisung reacts the same way, and he  _ knows  _ he's being too predictable, knows that Renjun can just aim lower next time without warning.

A childish part of him thinks that Renjun would never hurt him seriously. 

He thinks back to Jaemin, the patience he exhibited even when Jisung was being a distracted mess. Someday, all that would snap, and he would be no different from the rest of the trainees scrambling after them for attention. He's becoming too comfortable with them. He tries to remind himself of who they truly are, the horrible things they can do to him. 

Besides, this isn't Jaemin. It's  _ Renjun. _

_ " _ Jisung," Renjun greets, his petite figure never matching the cold tint of his words. The necklace is back where it belongs, and  _ sure _ it serves as a reminder that beyond Renjun's ice-block demeanour must hide  _ some  _ feeling, but that doesn't make Jisung's heart calm down at all.

The truth is that Renjun is  _ terrifying,  _ his walls impenetrable, his expressions always calm and controlled. Unlike Jaemin, whose facade doesn't hide the genuine amusement he gets from watching his victims squirm, or Donghyuck, whose enjoyment of anything violent makes up half of his personality, Renjun is  _ empty.  _ There's nothing visible beneath his pale skin, nothing present in those dark, dark, eyes except for blankness. 

Jisung never feels anything from him. No hints of thoughts, no feelings, no emotions.  _ Nothing.  _

Perhaps with the others, Jisung can convince himself that they  _ do  _ care about him. But with Renjun, there's no soft spot to be found, not for Jisung. 

(It's because Renjun hates weaklings. In front of his group, he's a completely different person, playful, charismatic, witty. Jisung only knows this from Chenle, secret information divulged in the nights squished together under moonlit skies. He remembers the time where he found Renjun crying between his friends, emotions whirling around like a storm, and it still haunts him to this day.) 

"R- Renjun," he greets, wincing as Renjun's unimpressed stare hits him at full force. Assassins don't  _ stutter.  _

He knows he'll pay for this. 

Donghyuck takes a seat at a corner, staring at them critically. He has the same training as Jaemin and Chenle; a disturbing ability to read people, get under their skin — whether with words or knives — to wheedle information out of them. 

Renjun, on the other hand, was drilled harder in combat, efficient with his strikes and quick on his feet. Jisung  _ knows  _ Renjun holds back during their practices; he'd be dead otherwise, but that doesn't make it any easier.

Renjun starts without warning, as he always does. His movements are graceful and fluid as always, a stream of water personified, and Jisung dodges to the side cleanly. Renjun isn't deterred, springing from his hands to aim a kick at his face, and Jisung ducks, smooth. 

His eyes narrow on Renjun's palm, flat on the ground. He could easily swipe him off balance, make him topple. Renjun doesn't excel in physical prowess, him and Jisung are almost equal on that front, so theoretically he  _ could  _ at least knock Renjun to the ground even though he knows for sure that Renjun could recover in a second. 

He doesn't do any of that. He just straightens up and prepares for the next hit. 

There's a sigh from Donghyuck,  _ disappointment-disapproval _ palpable, but Renjun doesn't show any reaction. He merely pauses, eyes Jisung sharply, and says, 

"20 pushups. _ Now."  _

* * *

His arms and legs burn at the end of it all. The one thing all this extra practice has accomplished, besides shredding him of whatever free time he has, is that he  _ is  _ physically stronger now. They make sure he doesn't lack in stamina, makes sure he has muscle on him, and no matter how hard he complains he's forced to continue with strength training along with everything else. There are no breaks allowed, endless pushups and situps and sprints until his muscles feel ripped apart, until his bones lie on the verge of shattering. It's days like this he hates the most, the pain never lessens and he ends up so drained that waking up becomes a herculean task the next day. 

Not that he'd ever whine to Renjun, of course. But his more workout-centric practices are usually conducted by Donghyuck, and occasionally Jaemin, and Jisung doesn't have an issue acting childish around them. They never reprimand him for it, nor show any distaste, and it's  _ confusing _ , but he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The free time he earned — and wasted — comes to an end, and he barely manages to fit a shower in between. Walking down the hallway in the direction of the classroom for his next lesson — English — he's met with the sight of his former bully, who pales and hurries away in hasty steps, leaving behind fading traces of  _ panic-fear-terror. _

Jisung wonders what Jaemin did to Donwon. Wonders why he couldn't just stand up for himself in the first place. Wonders when Jaemin would stop stepping in, leaving Jisung alone. Chenle is already warning him of the possibility, yet here he is, still the same, still weak. 

It's a mantra long embedded into his head, yet he doesn't change at all. He doesn't know what he's missing, what he needs to do differently. 

Class is a blur. Sitting in the furthest corner as always, he tries his best to pay attention and write down notes, but ends up doodling mindless flowers into the corner of the page. He wonders what Dream think of flowers. Wonders if they still have it in them to appreciate the little beauties of life. Wonders if he has the capacity to do the same anymore. 

He thinks of the lilies at his mother's funeral. Thinks of the warmth of his father's hands as his glassy eyes stared at her lifeless body. That day, not one, but two souls departed up into heaven. Jisung's father changed, faster than he could blink, a shell of the man he was before, soulless until the vacuum left behind got pumped with  _ rage _ and  _ greed _ .

His mind enjoys reminding himself of his father every chance it gets. Flowers on a notebook, a scar on his knee, a ring on a finger, it always links back to him. It's no ease, knowing that his father was never too far away, always watching, and it never brought the twisted comfort that  _ they  _ brought.

Class ends and his thoughts dissolve into the sky. Gathering his things, he walks out to his next class; sparring practice. His limbs are still aching from practice, and he can only pray that he ends up with someone at the same level as him.

It's a cruel twist of fate, when he's paired up with Dongwon.

It's obvious neither of them want to be here. Dongwon is panicked, his moves erratic as he circles Jisung, sweating already despite there being no exertion. Similarly, Jisung feels his breathing pick up as he realizes that Dongwon would absolutely  _ not  _ make the first move, but if neither of them fight they would be in trouble with the instructors, which leaves Jisung to be forced to land the first hit. 

He tries to remember Renjun's teachings. Keeps his breathing steady, his stance loose, and his feet firm on the ground. He stares at all the holes in Dongwon's posture and remembers what Renjun had once said, that taller, muscular boys would always overestimate how far their strength would take them and lack finesse everywhere else. 

And then he strikes. 

Dongwon dodges clumsily, no grace present whatsoever, and Jisung feels a thrill shoot up his spine at the realization that for the first time, they were on equal footing. Perhaps all this time he  _ could  _ have fought him off. 

Before he knows it, they're exchanging blows, Jisung dodging side to side, his speciality in evasion shining bright in the face of Dongwon's messy strikes. Dongwon himself is able to dodge Jisung's half-hearted attempts at a hit, the force that holds him back from attacking properly clamping tighter and tighter as time progresses. 

He catches a flash in the corner of his eyes, a figure at the doorway, still amongst the movement of dozens of students sparring. A heartbeat long burned into his mind, his entire being halts, a split second too much as Dongwon's next kick connects with his face with a blinding flash. 

There's a pained cry from himself, but it seems Dongwon isn't done, as he lands another kick onto Jisung's stomach, another to his shins, another to his throat that makes him see black and cough out blood. Dongwon unleashes his pent-up fury in that moment, impulsive and uncaring of consequence as he brings up his hands right above Jisung's head, ready to strike down with the weight of a steel hammer.

It's as if his world slows down. His vision sharpens, to the point where he can see the pulse under Dongwon's wrist, the dust particles suspended in the air, the fall of Dongwon's clenched fists centering in his vision. His peripheral darkens, instructors, students, his  _ father,  _ all disregarded in favor of locking on upon the prey in front of him. 

Only a second to react, and that's all he needs, as with a strength he never knew he possessed, he grabs Dongwon's arm, forcibly separating them and twisting one behind his back. Unrelenting, he feels something coil around his leg, transforming it into steel and bones, and he winds the limb back to kick Dongwon square in the spine hard enough that his arm snaps with a delightful crunch, hard enough that he goes flying forward and crushes his nose against the unforgiving concrete.

The noise snaps Jisung out of his trance, and he fumbles to let go of the bent arm and lower his leg as pain flashes through his entire being. He drops to his knees next to Dongwon, clutching at his face as Dongwon's pain fully hits him. The room has gone silent, dozens of eyes on him, burning through his skin as his  _ confusion _ and  _ horror _ along with theirs scorch his insides. 

There's slow clapping from the doorway, interrupted only by a pained sob from the boy collapsed onto the floor. Mortified, Jisung stares as his father walks in, suit pristine and perfect, trousers perfectly ironed and not a hair out of place. 

" _ This  _ is what's expected from you all," his voice rings clear in the dead silent room, commanding attention with only a glance. Jisung wants nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole, for his heart to be wrenched out of his chest so it would remain calm for once in his life. But that won't solve anything, not when his brain has already mapped out every inch of his father's face, the rare expression of  _ pride  _ that graces his stern features. It's going to be burned into his mind, for his brain to replay every night as a bedtime story, along with his mother's corpse and Chenle's laughter. 

The bell rings. 

He keeps his gaze firmly on the floor as he walks out.

* * *

Outside, Chenle is waiting for him. As always, the others steer clear of him, and Jisung reaches him without obstacles. Not even his father would dare go against Chenle's wishes.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, rather uselessly, not quite keeping the tremble out of his voice as his mind replays the past events in a sickening loop.

Chenle's reason for doing half the things he does is that  _ he wants to do it. _ Zhong Chenle is as simple as he is intelligent. At least Jisung knows that he isn't playing a character, that what Chenle shows is what he truly feels. Like right now, his brows knitted together in palpable concern and pity, as he reaches out to take Jisung's hands.

"Let's go to the rooftop," Chenle says, quiet, pulling him towards the stairs before he can refuse.

The rooftops are strictly off-limits, and rarely can even Chenle pull enough strings to allow them up there. It must be serious, if he went through the trouble. Jisung wishes they would stop doing things without warning him, but he washes that thought away the moment he realizes how childish he sounds. Expecting the unexpected was drilled into their heads ever since the very first day. 

He wonders what he'd do in an actual mission. Would he freeze? His limbs locked and his blood cold, would he leave himself to die? 

Or would the world slow down once more, his eyesight sharpening beyond human, limbs functioning beyond his control as he strikes with an efficiency even Renjun would be pleased by? 

The first time it had happened, he had promised himself to never let it out again, terrified of what he could do. Yet here he is, seven years later, the same fuzzy feeling traveling through his skin, same as the last time it happened. He can practically taste the copper of seven years ago, the salt of his tears mingled with the blood on his hands. At least now, he's far enough from the practice room that the pain in his arm and nose subsides.

It's hazy and cloudy when they enter the open space, thick gray clouds covering the sky and blocking the sun, winds chilling him down to his bone. He covers himself subconsciously, then releases as he notices how unaffected Chenle seems. He had always hated days like this back when he lived on the streets, his frail limbs falling easy victim to biting cold and threadbare clothes dampening without mercy. Cold always brought with it endless misery, compounding with Jisung's own, leaving him unable to speak or do anything.

"Are you alright?" Chenle asks, leaning over the railings to stare down at the ground below. Heavily guarded though disguised as a normal boarding school, this particular training center isn't too big, home to only a couple hundred students. Most of them don't make it past fourth year, and the only current fifth years — the usual final year — present were the entirety of Dream

Jisung shrugs at the question.  _ Worry-concern-tenderness  _ pours out of Chenle in waves and it soothes him more than he can ever hope for. He wishes he could transfer his ability to Chenle just this once, so the boy could feel the extent of Jisung's gratefulness to him. 

Jaemin's words ring in his head.  _ No one here cares about you,  _ and perhaps it wasn't bad advice, not when all the trainees avoid him, not when Dream's own feelings towards him were always confusing and convoluted. But  _ Chenle,  _ he doesn't hide, doesn't fake anything. He shows Jisung, without hesitation, the extent of his care for him, providing comfort and warmth that would be frowned upon if anyone else did it. Chenle cares about him, and that's one of the few facts in life that Jisung is absolutely certain about. 

And in return, Jisung cares about him too. Loves him even, despite that being a foreign word to him. That's all life is to Jisung at this point isn't it? Foreign words and foreign feelings from foreign people. 

He decides then and there, in a cloudy evening as the sun dips low into the horizon, that if there's anyone he can tell the truth about his abilities to, it's Chenle. 

"Actually, I have something to tell you," he confesses. 

_ Curious-intrigued-concerned.  _

He can't help but smile. He sees the way Chenle's eyes widen at that, the way his lips curl into a bright smile of his own. 

He won't ever be alone here, not when Chenle exists. Here, he can forget, at least temporarily that outside this little space that's their own exists a cruel, cruel world with even more cruel people. Words like  _ fathers  _ and  _ training  _ carry no meaning here, not when it's just the two of them. 

"I'm an empath," he begins, staring into the darkening horizon, too scared to meet Chenle's gaze.

It doesn't matter. Chenle's weight leans on his back, and his chubby cheeks press against Jisung's shoulder. 

_ Confusion-concern-comfort— _

_ — Love.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will slowly explore Jisung's abilities as the story progresses. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please do leave a review if you can. Kudos are much appreciated as well! 
> 
> First chapters are always the most nerve wrecking. I know my readers must be disappointed in my long hiatus and I intend to make it up to them as much as I can. Longfics are ambitious, time consuming and occasionally draining so please bear with me if I fall off the face of Earth again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for waiting!
> 
> Trigger warnings for implied sexual assault (only if you really pause and think about it) and the common trigger warnings for this story
> 
> Disclaimer! This is all fiction! I don't condone anything bad anyone does here but in the fic theyre not necessarily presented as bad things. This is because I'm trusting that you, as a reader, will only continue reading this story if you're confident in your ability distinguish reality from fiction.

Jisung's abilities as an empath emerge when he is seven, a little boy just trying to wake his mother up from what seems to be a nightmare. Her beautiful face scrunched up in pain, sweating all over as her hands clutch the white sheets. His heart can't handle seeing his mother in distress so he decides to wake her up.

He reaches over to cup her cheek to lightly slap her awake, when  _ something  _ winds around the inside of his stomach and  _ pulls.  _ Suddenly, the ground beneath him is no more, and the walls surrounding him dissolve into blackness. It's as if his bones disintegrate and his skin peels off, as if he fell from the sky without a parachute into burning acid, nothing but pain present in every nerve. 

Then, it hits him, an overwhelming, numbing,  _ terrifying  _ sensation of pure, unadulterated  _ fear.  _ It grasps at his clothes and tears them apart, pulls at his hair and rips it off, phantom touches shredding his limbs from his joints, and above him are a pair of bright yellow eyes piercing into his very soul. 

It was a moment of self-defense. His young mind so overwhelmed with terror that it lets go, lets himself explode from inside-out, his hands wrenching out of the invisible grip to grab at the eyes. Then, his mind blanks out, his movements uncontrollable to even him, and he watches almost in third-person as he tears the figure apart. Every heartbeat resonates in his head, until it slows down, until it is no more, and all that's left is resounding, deafening silence. 

And then he wakes up.

He stares down, into his mother's lifeless eyes. Her bruised and battered body, so bloody that her sheets have become an ocean of red. His own hands, smelling of copper and rust, tainted with a crimson that will embalm itself into his mind for the rest of his life. It's an image he will never forget, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how hard he weeps and prays that the corpse leaves him alone when he's trying to fall asleep. 

The funeral is held the next day. His father holds his hand through it all, no one else present except them. And when it's over, they reach home, and his father packs his things up and kicks him out of the house.

The first year was definitely the worst. Young Jisung was unused to stranger's emotions being transmitted directly into his brain, and what followed were a series of unbearable migraines and sleepless nights. It takes time, but he learns. Learns to block out the background noise and stray emotions, learns to distinguish his own feelings from everyone else's. He realizes how  _ far  _ his abilities actually go when he begs an old woman for food and realizes he can manipulate what she's feeling so that she would pity him and give him what he wanted.

It's not a pleasant realization, certainly too much responsibility for a seven-almost-eight year old already crippled by the guilt of  _ murdering his own mother.  _ On top of that, he now has to battle the morality of manipulating other's emotions to get what  _ he  _ wants, and the stress it put him through fucked with him so much that he emerged an empty husk of a boy, simply surviving to go from one day to the next without any real direction in life. 

For what it's worth, he doesn't use that specific side of his abilities anymore. Doesn't fuck with what other people feel, even though it could get him out of trouble with his instructors, with his bullies, and with his hyungs. He sees no use for it. They don't deserve to have their brain meddled with because of Jisung's own fragility.

He tells Chenle all this, vaguely mentions that his father recruited him into the organization a few months after his thirteenth birthday, and leaves it at that. It's the most he's ever opened up to anyone, the first time he's ever directly looked back on the past in a good while. 

It's silent after his confession, as Chenle digests the information, his breath warm and steady against Jisung's neck from where he's pressed against his back. It's a welcome contrast from the biting cold of the wind, and Jisung snuggles into Chenle's frizzy hair with a sigh. 

_ Pity-sympathy-anger  _

A beat, and then Chenle slowly releases, gently turning Jisung by the shoulder so they can be eye-to-eye. His face is kind, and Jisung feels unworthy to be on the receiving end of that gaze. How can Chenle still look at him like that, after he learned the truth? 

Sometimes Jisung wonders what made Chenle so attached to him in the first place. It's not a thought he entertains too much, because it always ends up with him in a pit of misery and self-doubt, but it's times like this that he truly wonders. Sweet, untouchable, unbreakable Chenle who has the entire world at his fingertips, who can have anything he wants with only a glance, settling for a boy so weak and useless. It doesn't make any sense. 

"You must be tired," Chenle remarks softly, reaching over to graze a bruise on his cheek with delicate fingers and even more delicate eyes. "Let me help." 

He  _ is  _ tired. Sparring always, always hurts because Jisung feels not only the hits he takes, or the hits he gives, but also everyone else's in the vicinity. The pain isn't too bad individually, a bit muffled due to distance, but when it's a large number of people it compounds into bone-deep aches.

Chenle makes Jisung sit on the ground, massaging his back with skillful elbows and palms until Jisung feels his body turn to jelly. "You're too sore," Chenle says. "You need to stretch more properly." 

"I'm too tired to do that," Jisung sighs. Stretching was boring anyways. 

He can  _ feel  _ Chenle roll his eyes, but it's tinted with fondness so he lets it go. Next, Chenle takes out a balm from his pocket and rubs it all over his calves where the fall in the practice room hurt the most. He's too gentle, to the point where Jisung feels as if he's made of dust, a paper plane ready to fly at the slightest of disturbance.

"Donghyuck made this, at Jaemin's request," Chenle explains. "He's been overworking himself at the lab lately, so Jaemin forced him to make something more reachable. More achievable." 

"What's happening at the lab now?" Jisung asks, a strange, nervous energy fogging up his stomach. Donghyuck overworking himself at the lab, and his father suddenly showing up? There's no way it can't be a coincidence.

"They're still testing out their chances at creating a superhuman assassin. They're not entirely sure which route to take; to directly modify the gene or to create something like an injection, but apparently they've had a basis for comparison for a while now, so a breakthrough is pretty likely," he eyes Jisung heavily as he speaks; there's no way he doesn't know. "Interesting, huh? You're confessing to me that you've got a weird, untamed power in you that makes you lose control and do things beyond what you're normally capable of. I sure wonder  _ what  _ they're using as a reference, especially one that they obtained right as you joined." 

Jisung flushes. Fucking Chenle. Too smart for his own good. 

"It's… my father. He figured out something in me is different after…" he trails off, mind wandering a bit. He decides he doesn't want to share this. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he continues. "Well, he took samples from me, and offered it to the organization in exchange for a fortune. He's never told anyone he got them from  _ me  _ because that could paint him a target too, in case it's genetic." 

Chenle rolls his eyes. He doesn't acknowledge the slip-up. "He better have shared some of that cash with you." 

Jisung snorts. "You think?"

They fall into companionable silence after that, shoulders brushing and fingers touching. Jolts of  _ content-pleased-love _ mingle with his own feelings. He's not sure where he begins and where Chenle ends. Moments like this, their souls intertwine and they function as one.

"I'm curious," Chenle says after a while. "How far your abilities extend. Is it  _ just  _ confined to emotions? What about thoughts?"

Jisung shrugs. "If I try really hard, I can feel… vague impressions of what people are thinking? I rarely try that though, there isn't really a reason to." 

Chenle laughs at that —  _ amusement-humor-fondness — _ eyes twinkling with mirth. "Why do you need a reason to do it? Doesn't it just sound fun?" 

Sweet, simple Chenle who's never had to choose between food and water, who's never had to think twice about purchasing something from a store, who's never had to consider the pros and cons for trying hard for something. Rationalising is second nature for Jisung, but certainly not for Chenle who's had everything he ever wanted ever since he was born. 

Doing things for fun is a strange concept, but if it makes Chenle happy, then Jisung would like to try it. 

"Alright," Chenle says, settling on the damp ground with his legs crossed. "What am I thinking of right now?" 

Jisung follows, taking a seat in front of the boy and gazing into his playful eyes. He takes a deep breath, and tries to dig into Chenle's mind, a strange, unwelcome sensation that sends sharp jolts down his spine. 

Then, slowly, a picture unravels in his mind, like a layer on 50% opacity, barely visible but the imprint right in front of his eyes nonetheless. A tall glass of milk, a cookie being dunked into it. 

He relays this to Chenle, who bursts into delighted laughter—  _ happy-pleased-entertained.  _

"That's amazing, Jisung!" Chenle says. "That's what I had for breakfast today!" He leans forward and smiles with too earnest eyes that sends shivers down Jisung's spine. He's not used to compliments, probably will never be.

"Oh oh! Let's try this! What number am I thinking of?" Chenle asks, excited, practically bouncing in place, heartbeat a trill. Jisung wants to tell him that if he tries too hard to use his abilities he'll get a headache, but this is one of the few things he can do to repay all that Chenle's done for him. Entertainment is not of equal value to kindness but it is all Jisung has to offer. 

"Eighty-six?" Jisung asks, and Chenle claps gleefully. He is happy, undeniably so, potent enough that even Jisung's heart feels lighter. 

They continue this game for a while, and Jisung realizes that it's rare that they have such unrestrained fun before. He cherishes the moment, tucks it deeply into his heart where his mother lies along with Chenle's bright smile. 

As the sky dulls, so does the mood and things turn somber after they tire themselves out. Chenle asks him what his father is doing at the premises. He doesn't really know many details about Jisung and his father, only that Jisung is deeply uncomfortable about the man and just a touch terrified. Now, combined with the knowledge that his father had kicked him out without giving him a chance to explain himself, and that he was essentially using Jisung's own abilities for his own gain, it's obvious Chenle severely dislikes the man. 

"Maybe they really did figure something out at the lab," Chenle muses. "Maybe if I annoy Hyuckie enough, He'll spill." 

Jisung smiles at that, and Chenle looks and feels elated at the rare expression. 

"Shall I have your father escorted off premise?" Chenle suggests. "Or better — just get rid of him completely. He's a weakling that tries to fit into the higher-ups, but he's so blinded by his greed that he doesn't realize he's a pawn to them," 

_ I'm a weakling too, _ Jisung thinks, but doesn't voice it.

Privy to knowledge of what happens between the higher-ups, Chenle would've seen his fair share of Jisung's father and his embarrassing desire for power. Chenle is right. Jisung's father is too gullible, believing that the tasks he's set to fulfill are ones that will guarantee him a rise in position. What he doesn't know — and what Chenle often gleefully relays to him — is that the higher-ups see him as a complete fool, only a mere servant to carry out tasks they consider beneath them. Jisung wishes he could feel happy about this, but his mind is long scarred from his father's endless abuse from when he took him in for the second time that any mention of the man makes him queasy. 

The mere sight of the man had set his controls off, resulting in his bully being knocked down with a broken nose and a broken arm. Jisung's brain has his father registered as an imminent threat, yellow eyes and yellow teeth a product of his worst nightmares.

"Hopefully he doesn't spend long here," Jisung answers after a long silence.  _ Hopefully the hyungs keep me too busy to ever run into him again.  _

"Alright then. But just… the option is always there, alright?" Chenle says, patting him on the back. 

_ Why are you doing so much for me?  _ Jisung wants to ask again, but keeps his mouth shut. 

"Let's talk about something else. The reason you can't hit anyone is because your uh… abilities make you feel their pain right?" Chenle asks,  _ curious-concerned-worried.  _ Surprised at how sharp he is, Jisung nods. Though perhaps he shouldn't be, after all, Chenle's intelligence is his most renown trait. 

Chenle frowns —  _ pity _ this time. "That's… unless you go through Numbing I don't really know how you could overcome that." He looks disgusted with himself just for saying it, whether it's because of the idea of Jisung going through something as horrifying as Numbing or at the fact that he, Zhong Chenle, doesn't know the solution to something. 

Numbing is a process only a select few trainees go through, and only a very few succeed. Renjun is one of them. Dream's unknown leader — unknown to Jisung, that is — is another one. Other than that, it's only the guards, instructors, and the entirety of the 127 unit whom Jisung knows went through the excruciating process. He's not fond of the idea, not at all. He's seen how  _ empty _ it makes a person, how lifeless their eyes become, how robotic and inhumane their movements become. It's obvious Chenle doesn't like it either.

Chenle sees his disturbed expression and clutches Jisung's hands in his own. "I promise you I'll figure something out," he says, eyes twinkling. A Chenle with a goal in mind is a Chenle that's unstoppable. Lazy and easy-going as he was on the daily, when determination sparks, nothing can stand in his way.

"Thank you," Jisung replies earnestly. He trusts his best friend to not spill the secret to anyone.

Once curfew strikes, they bid each other goodbye with a lingering hug. Jisung wishes it would last forever, the rare moments where his daunting future doesn't hang over his head, where only the present mattered and the past is long forgotten. But of course, as with everything, the moment ends and they have to part.  _ Disappointed-unhappy-dejected.  _ At least Chenle was feeling the same as him. 

Right before he enters the dorm, a familiar heartbeat — or rather, two — sounds in his head, followed by  _ annoyance-irritation-curiosity  _ and  _ happy-content-satisfied.  _

He's too curious to let it go — guards don't have such palpable emotions, and Jisung wants to know who else is out at this time — so he slowly edges behind until he can duck behind a pillar, blanketed by the shadows cast by dim overhead lights.

He stares at the hallway to his left, and sees Donghyuck dragging behind him the boy with the crescent eyes. When they're standing next to each other, Jisung realizes the boy and Donghyuck must be the same age, or close. He wonders what the boy has done to be on the receiving end of Donghyuck's fury, but at the same time he decides he'd rather not know.

Just as they're about to disappear from sight, the boy whirls around and looks directly at Jisung. A jolt of fear courses through him as the boy smiles brightly, but it seems Donghyuck is too preoccupied with glaring and marching ahead that he doesn't notice. Not like it matters; he doesn't think he would've gotten in trouble with Donghyuck anyways. Good chance is that he would've been praised for breaking the rules a little bit. 

Once they disappear from sight and mind, he relaxes considerably. What a weird boy, spotting him from so far away, and in the dark at that. And  _ smiling.  _ No one beyond Chenle does that, it honestly baffles him the more he thinks about it. 

But there's no point pondering over strange boys in strange scenarios. He's tired anyways, from the eventful day. From having an exam early morning, practicing with Renjun, losing control during sparring, to being an unfortunate victim of his father's visit, and the emotional conversation at the rooftop. Despite the lightness Chenle had brought to his body and soul he still finds a realm of soreness wedged into his body, one that he should sleep off.

His usual nightmares don't bother him, not when he's this tired. That night, he enjoys a dream full of strangers, one that surely doesn't belong to him but one that he deeply enjoys regardless. 

* * *

Jisung stares at the paper in his hand, already crinkled from his tight grip. He stares at his untidy handwriting at the bottom, to the daunting print of "Anatomy — volume one" at the top, and finally to the corner in which sits a bright red scrawl of "98". 

Fuck. 

Jaemin was going to  _ kill  _ him. 

A whole day tutoring and he still managed to lose a measly two marks. He  _ should've  _ gotten a hundred, oh fucking hell, Jaemin would not be happy. 

Early that morning, before Jisung had gotten to class, Jaemin had ambushed him in the hallway and asked him to meet him during his afternoon break. Jisung didn't think much of it back then, but now he realizes that Jaemin must've caught wind of his scores and wanted to lecture him. The hallway was busy so he didn't think twice about the tang of  _ disappointment  _ he had felt, unsure of whether it was coming from Jaemin or not.

Jaemin did make him late to class, so he had ended up escorting Jisung himself to ensure Jisung didn't get in trouble. The whole journey there, the atmosphere was saturated with  _ envy-envy-envy-envy-envy  _ to the point it made him light-headed and dizzy. He wishes Jaemin wouldn't be so public with his visits. It only served to make Jisung a target for everyone else's harsh stares and jealous words. Though, knowing Jaemin, perhaps he  _ wanted _ that to happen. Something about making Jisung more thick-skinned, probably. 

He battles his anxiety all the way to the regular meeting spot; the practice room. The journey there is marked by endless hallways and endless stairs. The practice rooms are located at the basement floors; everything above ground are classrooms for various purposes, and their dorms. He's just reached the first basement floor when a boy flies into his line of vision, scraping the ground harshly, making Jisung flinch from the sharp spike of  _ pain _ and  _ fear.  _

He recognizes this heartbeat by now; the crescent-eyed boy who always seems to be in trouble. This time is no exception, as a bunch of guards soon follow him. They are as void of emotion as always, but they're clearly upset with the boy, judging by the way they harshly haul him up by the collar, uncaring of the scratches that litter his body. 

Jisung flinches at the shared pain, and the boy jerks his head away from the iron-tight grasps to stare at Jisung head-on with wild eyes, shaking and terrified. They're teary, and Jisung feels a pang of sorrow through the  _ fear-terror-panic.  _ But beneath it all, there's a spark of growing  _ hope. _

It's not… often that people acknowledge his presence, unless it's to glare at him with envy or disdain. Yet here is this strange boy, staring at him with wide eyes so full of trust,  _ hoping  _ that Jisung would help him. The boy who had smiled, the boy who had hoped. Rare treasure in the dark, gloomy atmosphere of the training center, and the boy had it both. 

For some reason, Jisung doesn't want to disappoint the boy. His heart grows weak in an instant, and he makes a split-second decision. 

As the boy is dragged away, he closes his eyes, and slowly wraps his mind around the clouds of emotion that surround the figures, bright and clear around the boys but thick and hazy around guards. This would be a challenge, the numbed guards having their emotions locked beneath layers and layers of stone, impossible to read at a first glance. 

But Jisung has had seven years of practice. He slowly unfurls the clouds, revealing beneath it wisps of  _ anger _ and  _ fury _ . He gently guides them away from the guards, dispersing it and whispering kinder thoughts in their place.  _ Sympathy-pity-reluctance,  _ he nudges these towards the guards, twisting the trails of fog until they intermingle with the hazy thick clouds, indistinguishable from the greys but present nonetheless. 

Chilling anticipation, just for a second, before the guards suddenly drop the boy. They stare at each other, and Jisung realizes with fascination that their heartbeats have slowly picked up. 

The guards seem to come to an agreement, walking away on unsteady limbs, no doubt their expressions dazed and eyes glazed. It's a common reaction that everyone has when their emotions are tampered with, and Jisung has seen his fair share of it. They'll forget about the event soon enough, their mind filling in the blanks with false memories. A dangerous, cruel ability that Jisung still feels immense guilt for using.

He directs his attention to the boy on the ground, attacked by an immense amount of  _ gratefulness-elation-disbelief  _ all at once in a short span of time. He blinks away the shock, before extending a hesitant hand to the boy, who accepts it eagerly. 

Jisung is quick to pull away once the boy is upright and steady.  __ He's rewarded with a full blast of a crescent-eyed smile, so unfairly pure and kind that he almost takes a step back out of shock. 

"You're the kid I always see around!" the boy exclaims,  _ excited  _ and  _ happy.  _ He then frowns, rather cutely. "But it's always after curfew and you're  _ never  _ in trouble. Not like me. How?"

"Um… connections, I guess?" Jisung responds weakly. Internally, he's panicking, because how the  _ fuck  _ do you have a casual conversation with non-Chenle's? He's never been trained for  _ this. _

The boy pouts. "Ah, that's so unfair. I'm always in hot water with everyone." 

Jisung wonders why a trainee keeps going out of their way to anger their seniors. He can't figure out any reasons for it, beyond childish rebelliousness.

"Oh! Um, I'm Jeno. Lee Jeno," the boy — Jeno — rushes to greet when the silence grows beyond what's comfortable. He extends his hand for a handshake, but Jisung only stares at it blankly. Touching non-Chenle's is also something he's never had to consider. 

Jeno doesn't seem deterred by his lack of response, pulling back his hand with an easy-going smile. "What's your name?" he asks, in a cute, nasally, awkward voice that is still somehow deeper than most trainees Jisung had met. His guess that Jeno is around the same age as Donghyuck must be correct. 

Jisung realises he hasn't responded and rushes to introduce himself. "Jisung," he says, curt, yet still somehow stumbling over his words. Jeno finds this funny, an offensive wave of  _ amusement _ and  _ humor _ washing over Jisung, who is forced to stay quiet and not call him out as no one should be blamed for what goes on inside their heads. 

When it's clear that Jisung isn't going to offer anymore information, Jeno tentatively asks, "how did you get them to leave me alone?" 

Jisung shrugs helplessly. He has no idea how to answer that, the consequences of his impulsive decision only now hanging over his head. For what reason did he help a  _ stranger?  _ Using his abilities he's had locked down for so long has already given him the beginnings of a headache. 

It seems Jeno has better social skills than him. Sensing that Jisung doesn't want to talk about it, he lets it go easily, smiling brightly and clasping his hands together. "I won't push you. Just… thank you. I owe you immensely," he says, bowing down. 

"T- thank you too," Jisung finds himself stuttering out in response, wincing at the following  _ confusion-amusement. _

"What for?" Jeno asks with a laugh. It makes Jisung feel prickly all over, a trainee openly laughing without care makes him feel almost uncomfortable. 

_ For acknowledging me,  _ he wants to respond, but manages to bite his tongue in time. It's embarrassing, but being someone's savior feels nice, and he'd rather not taint the image of him that Jeno has with a version that's constantly craving validation and comes off as pathetic. 

"I better head off now," Jeno says after a moment of awkward silence. He raises his hand in a wave, and it's then that Jisung notices that the bracelet they're all required to wear is green on him, not purple. Moreover, the direction Jeno heads in is definitely not where the dorms are located. It's an off-limits area for all of them except a select few — the infamous, mysterious labs. 

Jisung feels his heart drop, blood run ice-cold. Something tells him he just involved himself in something much  _ much  _ deeper than a simple rebellious trainee who got into trouble. 

It's as he stares at Jeno's retreating back that he finally wonders. 

Why did one measly trainee require an entire team of guards to capture him? 

* * *

His mind was occupied by thoughts of Jeno as he walked back to his dorm room. The atmosphere suddenly feels colder, goosebumps erupting over bare skin, and he quickly stuffs his hands inside his pockets for some semblance of warmth. His fingers brush against something rough and crumpled. 

His exam paper.

_ Jaemin.  _

_ Oh fucking hell.  _ He  _ forgot. _ Jeno had distracted him so much from his actual destination that he had forgotten about his meet-up with Jaemin. Jaemin, who despised tardiness, who was already disappointed in Jisung for his scores, who had set aside his precious time to tutor Jisung without asking for a favour in return. 

His heart splinters his stomach with how hard it drops, pounding away at the tempo of a hummingbird's wings. His legs have never run this fast before, booking it down long flights of stairs and drawn-out hallways until he stands in front of the practice room with heaving breaths. 

He gulps, trying to steady himself, but Jaemin's fast-paced heartbeat and potent emotions prevent him from calming down. As if sensing that he was there, Jaemin steps out the door and grabs Jisung by the shirt roughly, dragging him in. Jisung doesn't resist. Although he's terrified, he's ready to accept whatever is coming. 

Jaemin's face isn't kind when he lets go of Jisung and turns him around, and the disappointment he exuded before pales in comparison to what he's feeling now. Shame and guilt tear at Jisung's skin, and he hangs his head low to avoid returning Jaemin's harsh stare. 

"No, no, no, no. You don't get to show up thirty-minutes late to our meeting and avoid eye-contact with me,  _ fuck  _ no," Jaemin hisses out, grabbing as Jisung's chin and forcing it up. His eyes are blazing, a far cry from his usual collected composure. " _ You _ , Park Jisung, need to learn to deal with the consequences of your decisions head on. Actions have effects, Jisung, and you can't just duck your head and run away anytime something gets a little too hard for you. This isn't kindergarten, no one's going to hold your hand and tell you  _ it's alright  _ when you fuck up for the tenth time in two days."

"I— I'm sorry," Jisung stutters out, stars flickering in his vision both from the ferocity of Jamein's words and the intensity of his emotions. 

" _ Sorry  _ doesn't work here. Especially not from you. Empty words with empty meanings. Instead,  _ show  _ that you're really, truly sorry, and  _ be better.  _ This isn't about your exam scores anymore — and we'll get to that later, Jisung." Jaemin takes in a deep breath and the end of his spiel, then his words soften considerably. The cold tinted syllables glow with something warm in the corners as he speaks. "Remember what I told you the other day? That it's okay if you feel what you feel but you've got to stop letting it cloud your mind? Affect your decisions, and distract you? The marks you lost — it was on a question about the septum and your mind was wandering when we discussed it. If you had just kept your focus you would've gotten it correct. Maybe here, two marks doesn't seem like too much, but out there, it can mean life or death to you. Do you hear me? I'm not exaggerating nor am I trying to guilt you; I'm just telling you the  _ truth." _

Jisung nods wordlessly, intimidated by Jaemin's intense glare, but at the same time completely taken back by the sheer amount of  _ concern  _ Jaemin was emitting. Fucking hell, now he feels awful.

"A nod isn't an answer, Jisung," Jaemin says with a cold glare, though there's a worrying amount of  _ distress  _ punctuating every word. 

"Yes. I do understand," Jisung whispers, burning from head to toe, feeling ashamed and humiliated. Jaemin was always the most patient with him, and despite his strict, perfectionist tendencies he really does help Jisung out a lot. Jisung feels as if he's been taking all that assistance for granted. The least he could do in return was make all that effort pay off. 

Jaemin holds his gaze for a beat more, before sighing. "Sometimes, I think we go too easy on you," he admits, sounding defeated.

Jisung's blood turns into ice, and he speaks before he can even comprehend the words, fully terrified by the prospect of them treating him like they treat the other juniors. "I'll be better, I  _ promise."  _

Jaemin only regards him quietly. Unsettling as always, his gaze pricks at Jisung's skin, pierces right through his racing heart. 

Then, soft as snow, "Dream don't take promises lightly."

_ No backing away now _ , he means. 

There's a moment of awkward silence as Jaemin stares at him silently and Jisung tries his best to return the stare without fidgeting. He doesn't even realize how tense he is until Jaemin, with just the barest speck of  _ fondness, _ says, "you can relax. I'm not going to bite. But," he continues, when Jisung's face lights up, "you owe me a week's worth of laundry for being late."

Jisung nods furiously. "Of course," he agrees easily. He's seen what Jaemin can do when he's pissed. Laundry is fucking child's play compared to that.

"Head to the top floor when you're free. The guards should let you in. My room is in the middle" 

Jisung blinks. "Top… floor? Doesn't 127 live there?" he asks, referring to the infamous group of graduates, all fully Numbed, terrifying and respected amongst everyone. All the trainees wish to be them, their stories almost like fairy tale legends within the premises. 

"They moved out. Dream lives there now," Jaemin responds —  _ impatience _ . There's a pattern with Jaemin that Jisung has noticed, that the longer a conversation grows, the more clipped and curt his sentences become, signifying that he's growing tired of socialising. Jisung has never pushed Jaemin to talk when he starts speaking this way. He always tries to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

"I'll go study now," Jisung says in lieu of a goodbye.  _ I really am sorry,  _ he wants to add, but knows it won't be appreciated. 

As awful as disappointing Jaemin feels, he leaves the conversation with newfound resolve. He  _ will _ figure out a way to bypass the annoying side-effect of his abilities, and with an equally determined Chenle now by his side, he's ready to do whatever it takes. He wants to make Jaemin proud, to get rid of that dejected gaze in his eyes whenever Jisung lets him down. He wants to make Renjun finally see him as a worthy opponent, for Donghyuck to see him as more than another experiment in his labs.

Jisung has never in his life had an end goal to work towards, and perhaps this is a feeble, temporary one, but it's one he sets deep in his heart nonetheless. 

(But he wonders whether making Dream proud would mean making his father proud. He wonders if they would go hand-in-hand, or if his father's distaste for the older trainees would overpower his pride. He wonders; the next the time he gazes into those piercing yellow eyes, what would stare back?) 

* * *

The guards do let him through. The heavily guarded dorm is more like an apartment than the crammed fifteen-beds-in-one-room layout that Jisung's own dorm has. It's spacious, with three bedrooms, a sofa, a TV even, and a tiny kitchen in the corner where Renjun stands, staring blankly at a carton of eggs. 

Jisung flinches as he notices that he's not alone, and the prospect of Renjun staring at  _ him _ with that empty gaze propels him to find Jaemin's room as quickly as possible. Opening the bedroom in the middle as instructed, he's taken back by the two beds that occupy the homely space. Jaemin is the last person he expected would share a room with someone else, his introverted tendencies and dislike of social situations obvious to even the other trainees. 

Even more shocking is the plethora of plushies scattered across the room, bright pink and oranges on one side and yellowing-whites on the other. Jisung vaguely recognises the character from his childhood — Moomin, he thinks is the name. 

Matching this adorable, almost childish decor to the intimidating figures he's long known Dream as is such a jarring shift that his brain stutters just thinking about it. In a way, it almost feels comedic, and his lips stretch into a grin before he can help himself.

He wonders who Jaemin's roommate is. Donghyuck, perhaps? 

_ Laundry, _ he reminds himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. The clothes are already in a basket, bright pink, and once again, childish. Are his eyes deceiving him or are those hello kitty pajama pants?

He bends down and picks up the basket with no little amount of confusion. Just as he straightens up, the door flies open and Jisung drops it as he startles. Whirling around, he finds himself face to face with Renjun's impassive gaze. The familiar cold dread that appears whenever Renjun is in his vicinity slowly creeps up his neck. It doesn't matter that Renjun is dressed casually in a white t-shirt and sweats, his hair untidy and sticking up. No matter how Renjun looks, he would always trigger Jisung's anxiety tenfold. 

"You are in my room," Renjun notes quietly. "Why?" 

Jisung has to physically force his face to remain calm because  _ what the fuck.  _

"This… this is your room?" he finds himself asking before he can stop, so thrown off by the new information that he feels his knees go weak. The fucking moomin plushies were  _ Renjun's?  _

Renjun cocks a brow.  _ I just said so,  _ he clearly means to say. Jisung flushes from head to toe, but his mouth doesn't get the memo and continues talking. 

"D- do the hello kitty pants belong to you or Jaemin?" 

The following seconds of silence is the most terrifying moment of his life. The horror that grabs him as he realizes what he just asked, followed by tense anticipation as Renjun simply stares at him with a deadpan gaze. 

"Me. I got them as a gift." 

"O- Oh." Jisung doesn't know what else to say. His mind pushes an image of Renjun — hollow, stony-faced Renjun — wearing bright pink Hello Kitty pajamas. He almost bursts into laughter at the insanity of it all. 

"You did not answer my question."

"Oh, yeah," Jisung hurries to pick up the basket again and explains, "Jaemin asked me to do his — erm, well his and your — laundry." 

Renjun hums. "You angered him," he says. A statement, not a question. Jisung wants to melt in shame. 

"I — I did," Jisung admits. Renjun merely cocks an unimpressed brow, and something in Jisung compels him to defend himself. "I swear I'll make it up to him. I promise!" 

"You better," Renjun says, the threat left unspoken but his clear distaste for Jisung shining like a beacon. Jisung is already as tall as Renjun, but in that moment he feels so incredibly small, like he's just a speck of dust obstructing Renjun's path. 

A few more tense seconds, before Renjun finally leaves. Heaving out a sigh, Jisung takes a moment to collect himself and his raging heartbeat, taking one final look at the room before walking out. Renjun is back at the kitchen, a tablet propped on the granite countertops while he delicately holds a cracked egg with both hands. Curious as to what Renjun could be doing, Jisung suppresses his urge to get out of the apartment as quickly as possible to instead peek at the screen, taken back when he reads the words "Tres leches" printed on some old mommy's blog. 

Renjun was  _ baking?  _

For the second time that day, Jisung's brain completely halts, and he stumbles on his steps hard enough to slam into the coffee table. He winces, both at the pain and at Renjun's glare. 

His overwhelmed brain gives him no breaks. Without thinking, he asks, "you're having trouble separating the eggs, aren't you?" 

With a little bit of visible trepidation, Renjun nods. 

Jisung thinks Chenle would be proud of the bravery he's exhibiting right now, as he sets the laundry basket on the floor and heads towards Renjun. The fear in his mind is replaced by a longing; memories of calloused, warm hands littered with scars grasp firmly at his heart. His mother had always loved baking. Every weekend, he would find her in their cramped kitchen, making a mess with flour and eggs, struggling with their faulty second-hand oven and broken whisks. They rarely had the ingredients needed for recipes, rather they substituted with whatever they could find to come up with mediocre cakes and cookies that at the time was absolute heaven on his tongue.

He was a clumsy child, but his mother always let him separate the eggs, proposing it as a game that young Jisung was always ecstatic to participate in. He remembers her gentle advice, in that tender tone of voice he remembers to this day. 

_ "It's easier if you just crack the egg in, and fish out the yolks later— _

— though all our eggs were cheap and the yolks were always broken, so we never succeeded," Jisung fondly reminisces as he cracks a perfect looking egg into the metal bowl. The yolk a floating sphere on the transparent albumin, completely separate and ready to be gently taken out. 

Cohesive thought enters his brain at that very second, and he jumps away from the counter to gaze at Renjun in horror.  _ What the fuck did he just do?  _

But Renjun isn't looking at him. Instead, he stares into the bowl, before gently lowering his hand and collecting the yolk, depositing it into a spare bowl with hesitant limbs. Then, he turns to look at Jisung, and the difference is minute but his face is less stoic and more relaxed.

"Thank you," Renjun says, and Jisung is so surprised he can't even form a response. But Renjun isn't done yet; he continues speaking as he cracks more eggs into the bowl, his voice softer than Jisung has ever heard it. "Donghyuck is coming home tired these days. I am the oldest one who lives here so I have a responsibility to look after their well-being. Sugar is prohibited but if it will help him relax, I do not mind breaking a few rules." 

"That's sweet of you," Jisung says, surprised by the earnestness painting Renjun's words. He exudes no tangible emotions, but Jisung has long learned that Numbing didn't mean that you didn't feel. Instead, everything was hidden under thick gray clouds which are headache inducing if he tries to peek into them too much. But he doesn't need to use his abilities to see the tenderness embedded in Renjun's features as he speaks of his teammates, concern, care, and protectiveness embodied in his petite yet sturdy frame.

He finds himself staring, as Renjun's small hands work their way through the eggs. How could something so fragile looking be so strong? Renjun was built on contradiction upon contradiction, but Jisung feels that he's finally seen a glimpse of what he hides in that walled-off heart tucked behind the cool metal of the necklace hanging between his collarbones. 

He's picked up the laundry basket for the nth time, and is just about to leave, when the door bursts open and he finds himself face to face with an intensely distressed Chenle, Jaemin and Donghyuck not far behind. 

A barrage of  _ Anger-worry-hatred-concern-anger-distress-confusion-panic-anger  _ follow them, stabbing directly into his brain. He steps backwards on unsteady legs, wondering what the fuck was going on. It's clear they had run here, for they were panting, faces red and sweaty. Even Renjun leaves his station in the corner, wiping his hands on his pants and stepping into Jisung's line of view.

Chenle doesn't keep him waiting for long. "We've got a mission," he says, then looks directly at Jisung. His expression is pinched —  _ anxious-apologetic-angry. _

"And they want  _ you _ to join us." 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im not sure if me rambling here would be welcome by you all but I really have a few things to say so... 
> 
> I'm finding myself daydreaming about this work even in class now oh god. The scenes are so well crafted in my head but on paper they always fall a bit flat 😅 I mean ive read and reread this so many times and theres only so much editing i can do to make it flow better fhdjdj Im trying to not be too hard on my writing — because it is genuinely just a hobby for me. 
> 
> Renjun is going to be one of my favorite characters to write, I can already tell. My twitter poll let me know that people are looking forward for Donghyuck Jisung interactions which I know there's a severe lack of so far, but we'll get there, I swear! 
> 
> Chenle is genuinely the best boy ever. He's such a simple kid, his only priorities in life are to have fun and love Jisung, and as long as he has that he's content. 
> 
> Jaemin's feelings on Jisung hmM 
> 
> Oh and how can I forget! Jeno is in this story! Those who have read the previous work might be confused how he knew Jisung before but don't worry, it'll all make sense eventually. 
> 
> I hope nothing was too confusing here haha 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Please enjoy!

The walk to the meeting room is perhaps the most tense thing Jisung has ever felt in his life. The chorus of unwanted emotions is the most overwhelming it’s been since he’s joined the organization; his own fluttering heart beating tenfold along with the never-ending waves of  _ distress-anger-confusion  _ the others emit. It compounds with his own conflicted emotions, ones that he barely had time to sort through before he was dragged to the meeting room. Donghyuck takes the lead, followed by Chenle who sticks heavily to Jaemin with a pale, withdrawn look on his normally joyous face. Jisung wishes it was him that Chenle was melting into, but in a time like this he doesn’t fault the boy for seeking comfort through his elders.

Jisung finds himself slowly drawing closer and closer to Renjun, situated at the very back of their impromptu line. Renjun radiates no perceivable emotion. Another day, it would unsettle Jisung, but here, amongst an unwelcome chorus of vehemence and uncertainty he finds the emptiness soothing. Renjun does not acknowledge the sudden proximity, merely walks forward with his head held high.

There are a few trainees loitering around the hallways, mostly first years that just finished their last class of the day. Their eyes flick to Jisung and back almost comically fast, but nothing can hide the waves of  _ anger  _ and  _ envy  _ that penetrate right through his skull. Belatedly, Jisung wonders what will happen when Dream graduates. No one will be left to protect him by presence alone. The vultures eyeing him for so long would finally descend upon his defenseless body. 

As he is lost in these thoughts and ignoring the elephant in the room, they finally reach the top floor of the second wing where the instructors, guards, and staff live. The long flights of stairs leave him winded, panting and sweating no matter how hard he tries to mask his tiredness. The rest look unaffected by the long trek, but they do not cast any judgement on Jisung either.

Jisung has never been to this particular wing. The cement walls and bare floors are not too different from the ones at his floor. The doors here are few and far in between, and when they reach the end of the hallway, an unassuming wooden door sits to their right. 

"This is our spot," Donghyuck says, eyeing them all warily, lingering on Jisung for a second longer than the rest. 

They enter into the office and line up neatly side-by-side in the cramped space. Looking at them is Taeyong, his pixie-like face stretched into an awkward yet friendly smile. He's the leader of 127 yet outwardly appears unassuming and frail, but Jisung has long learned that appearances don't mean shit in here. Not when Renjun can kill a man twice his size without blinking, not when Taeyong is in charge of an entire assassin's unit. 

Jisung can feel Jaemin calm down a bit. Jaemin and Taeyong are coworkers, though a strange unlikely combination. The Organization has quite a lot of branches beyond assassination — one of them is running strip clubs scattered throughout the town. Fourth years and above are allowed to work part-time at these branches, and Jaemin, and occasionally Donghyuck, choose to work at the strip clubs along with Taeyong. He knows this through Chenle's gossip.

He also knows that his father frequents these clubs to see Jaemin, often bringing with him various gifts to try and woo Jaemin, like that ring Jaemin had had. A repulsive thought, one that Jisung hates to think about. According to Chenle, Jaemin finds it funny, and Chenle finds it as disgusting as Jisung does.

The worker's faces would be covered as per protocol — surprising, really. He wonders how much business would spike if the customers could see the ethereal beauties that lay beneath the masks. Jisung has known Jaemin for a while now but sometimes the other's face still causes his breath to hitch. 

His father doesn't know that the bunny-eared worker he's so enamoured with is the very same one he detests for being a "bad-influence" on Jisung. Neither Jisung nor Chenle want to make him aware of this fact.

Ah. He was getting sidetracked. Luckily, he hasn't missed anything, for Taeyong has only been shuffling through a ream of papers. He mentally shakes of the residual unease that thoughts of his father always leave behind. The long wait time only serves to make the others restless, and Jisung feels himself want to fidget in response. 

Finally, Taeyong looks up, a sympathetic expression adorning his sharp features. He exudes nothing of that sort however, and Jisung finds himself creeped out by the emptiness of such an expressive face. At least with Renjun, his face was motionless enough that the numbed emotions don't feel out of place.

"How much do you guys know?" Taeyong asks, handing over the papers to Renjun, who processes the question with a startling efficiency and answers, "just that us, and Jisung, have been assigned a mission rather unexpectedly."

"That's right. I'll give you the full report to read over after this. For now, you'll have to know that the details of this mission are extremely confidential. That means no gossiping, not with anyone outside of Dream, and," he looks directly at Jisung, "not a single trainee should know of this. No matter how compelled you feel to brag that you, a first year, is being sent on a mission. I don't need to list out the consequences if you do, do I?" 

"Of course not, sir," Jisung rushes to answer. He really wouldn't tell anyone anything. Who would even talk to him?

"Taeyong," Jaemin butts in with a frown, looking over Renjun's shoulders at the papers. "Why exactly is Jisung being sent with us? This looks like a normal fetch-and-retrieve mission, and we've done plenty of those alone. Renjun's even done a few of them solo." 

"It's no normal mission," Taeyong explains. "Your target — Yong Hwan — is a runaway experiment from the labs. The latest serum they developed was used on him and he was exhibiting signs of superhuman abilities before he managed to escape. We cannot let a subject like that go into hiding, or worse, make organization secrets public."

Jaemin nods slowly. "But why  _ Jisung?"  _ He repeats. "He's not qualified to take down someone of that caliber. He would most likely end up a hindrance than a help." 

Yeah okay. Ouch. Jisung can't blame Jaemin for simply speaking the truth, heck he even feels a little touched that beneath the  _ indignation  _ of Jaemin's words lies  _ concern  _ and  _ care.  _

Jisung himself is concerned too. What if this was his father's doing again? What if he decided he simply didn't care anymore and spilled that Jisung was the source of his samples? 

Taeyong smiles, unaware of Jisung's inner turmoil. "Our precious Mark Lee requested you take him along."

The effect of the words is instantaneous. The Dream members go rigid, slack-jawed,  _ hope-shock-admiration  _ flooding their veins. A spike of pure  _ elation _ hits him from Chenle, who's grinning so bright that the tense atmosphere immediately disperses. 

"He's back?!" Chenle cries out, giddy with excitement as he detaches himself from Jaemin to hurl himself at the desk. Taeyong smiles pleasantly at the spectacle, even as Jaemin pulls the boy back harshly. 

"Not yet. In a week, you'll be able to meet again," Taeyong explains calmly, but this doesn't deter Chenle's optimism. Instead, he whirls around to face Jisung with sparkling eyes.

"Jisung, we  _ have  _ to nail this mission!" 

"Uh, yeah," Jisung agrees. It's not like he was planning on  _ failing,  _ whatever the mission entails. His brain barely comprehends the statement anyways, too focused on the jealousy he feels watching Chenle acts this bright about a stranger.

"Why would hyung…" Jaemin starts and trails off with an exasperated sigh, but there's no hiding how excited the news made him, not from Jisung. "Alright. Guess we'll have to take you along," he says, staring at Jisung and Chenle with faux displeasure. 

"Everything you need to know is in those papers. The mission is in three days; if you have any requests for equipment make sure you submit them before tonight," Taeyong instructs. 

This makes Donghyuck finally spur to life from where he was carefully going over the papers. "Jisung is a first year. He doesn't have clearance for weapons, nor any substantial training with them." 

Taeyong simply shrugs. "If you have any complaints about Jisung's inclusion, direct them to Mark." 

"That fucking stubborn bitch," Donghyuck seethes, and there is a genuine tint of  _ anger  _ to his voice though equal parts  _ fondness  _ counters it. A confusing combination.

Jaemin throws his head back, taking in a deep breath. "God, I hate his guts sometimes." 

They're dismissed after that, and Jisung finds his heartbeat has lessened considerably. The bounce in Chenle's steps is back, and the air is no longer saturated with anger and unease. All negative emotions had simply scattered away once "Mark" was brought up. Jisung has no idea who Mark is, but Jaemin had referred to him as _hyung_ and Chenle had exploded with joy at his name. Jaemin isn't the type to keep anyone close to him, and Chenle isn't the type to consider random humans as anything but peasants below his level.

The obvious conclusion is that Mark must be Dream's mysterious leader. Chenle has never explicitly stated his name — "he asked me to keep it a secret," he had explained apologetically one day, which was surprising because Chenle never listens to what other people say. 

Fierce loyalty had always burned through Chenle whenever he vaguely alluded to the figure. The only other thing he knows is that Mark is the only one Dream takes orders from without question. Their lack of fight against bringing Jisung to the mission only serves as more proof. 

Jisung feels chills run down his spine, like a ghost running their fingertips over his back, as he thinks of what kind of person Mark could be. Someone who has Dream's respect, someone who was fully Numbed, someone who makes Chenle happy. A person of that caliber is acknowledging Jisung's presence, making him participate with the members he leads. 

It must be a test. 

And he's going to fail. 

He can't even meet the standards of Dream, let alone the standard of their  _ leader.  _

"Hey," Chenle's voice interrupts his inner conflict. "Stop thinking so much." 

Jisung shrugs. Impossible. 

"Seriously. Don't worry about it. They're going to position you as far away from the target as possible. Renjun's most likely going to get the brunt of the work. You're just going to be a spectator." 

He doesn't want to be just a spectator. How embarrassing, being allowed a mission as a  _ first year  _ and doing nothing to prove that he earned such a privilege. 

"Chenle's right." Jaemin falls into step along with them, as Renjun and Donghyuck walk ahead. "It's not a bad thing either; it'll help you get used to the atmosphere of real missions before you're actually permitted to properly participate." He closes his eyes, deep in thought for a few seconds, before speaking, "Hyuckie, you won't mind taking him, will you?" 

Donghyuck turns around with a glint in his eyes —  _ amusement.  _ He grins devilishly as his eyes rake up and down Jisung's frame. "Sure, why not? I always get the most boring parts of missions anyways," he says with a dramatic sigh. "But honestly, this time, I'm glad. I've worked on that kid before — Yong Hwan. Feisty little shit, bit my hand once. Of course, back  _ then,  _ it wasn't hard to punish him for it. He was a weak little thing with too much fire in his heart. But  _ now,  _ with the abilities he's been expressing, he's going to be a real bitch to collect." He glances at Renjun who's listening attentively. "I don't envy you. Don't underestimate him, no matter how unassuming he may seem."

Renjun nods though he looks a bit irritated. "I would never underestimate an enemy. You do not need to warn me everytime." 

Donghyuck coos, reaching over to pull at Renjun's cheeks. " _ Fuck _ , you're adorable, Jun." 

Renjun just sighs, as if this is a daily occurrence, then all of a sudden lunges to grab Donghyuck by the neck, only to be smoothly dodged by a graceful sidestep. Jaemin shoots Chenle a disgruntled look as the boy bursts into giggles, before walking over and forcefully separating the two, holding them by their collars, looking awfully like the mother cat that used to live on Jisung's street, carrying her kittens by their scruff. 

"Behave," he orders, and Donghyuck fake-pouts while Renjun obediently goes still. 

"Only if you give me a kiss," Donghyuck tries to bargain, and Jaemin looks him dead in the eye and places a wet, disgusting, smooch right on his eye. The scream that follows makes everyone stare at them, and Jisung wants to crawl into a hole in shame. Chenle doesn't share the same sentiment, bursting into a fit of melodious giggles. 

Jisung wishes he could make Chenle laugh like that. Recently, all he's done for Chenle is being another source of stress. 

Jaemin smacks Chenle's head and orders them to walk —  _ neat and in a line, please, you're giving me a headache.  _

Once they're back and settled in Dream's dorm, Donghyuck sets the papers down on the table. 

"Seems like our beloved Mark hyung — we can drop his name now right?" 

"He did not give permission to do so," Renjun answers with a frown.

"Meh. Anyways, "Redacted" hyung found out where the guy is hiding… why he didn't just retrieve the dude himself is beyond me… But anyways, he's been taken in by some rich family, mansion with guards and all. We need to sneak in without alerting his new "parents", grab him, and go."

"Parents, huh?" Chenle asks warily.

"By name, maybe. See here?" Donghyuck taps on a paragraph, "they're like modern circus trainers. Collects superhuman kids like candy, shows them off to the underground, and gives them a share of the money they pull in. Guess in a way they're helping them stay alive." 

Chenle snorts. "The ethics there is questionable."

"When has anything that happens in this world been  _ ethical?"  _ Donghyuck shoots back. 

Jisung fidgets in his seat, uncomfortable with the topic. He's glad his abilities are easy to hide. Chenle glances at him, sharp as a whip as always, and offers him a gentle smile. Jisung smiles back, tentative yet grateful, then looks back up with newfound lightness, only to see Jaemin eyeing him with an unsettling deadpan gaze. 

Jisung feels the need to break the sudden silence while everyone gazes at him, burning  _ curiosity. _

"Exactly what abilities do the target express?" he asks quickly. Donghyuck, to his credit, is quick to blink away his obvious interest in whatever was going on between Jisung and Chenle to answer the question. 

"We observed increased strength and a remarkable healing factor. Though not as strong as we had hoped it'd be, the time between then and now is long enough that he definitely has developed his abilities beyond what we know." 

Jisung really doesn't want to know how they found out about the healing factor. 

"Do you think Renjun can take him alone?" Jaemin asks. 

"That's hard to say. It's uncharted territory as far as his abilities are concerned, but —" Donghyuck reaches over and smothers Renjun in his arms, "— I trust Junnie to tap out if it gets too much. Coming back empty handed is better than coming back with one missing." 

Renjun nods. "I will do my best not to disappoint." He glances at Jaemin. "How much am I allowed to get hurt?" 

Jaemin sighs. "Not at all, preferably, but honestly just steer clear of anything life-threatening, okay? No being stubborn, or I'll be really, really mad." 

"Of course. You do not have to worry about me. But we  _ do  _ need to worry about Jisung. What do you propose we do with him?" 

"He'll be with me, hanging back with my tranquilizers in case there are any unexpected patrols. He'll only be watching. Jaemin will distract the men at the front door, posing as a guest for a private show of the "kids." He'll need to lure them away, while Renjun grabs one to be interrogated by Chenle. Whatever we find out, we inform Renjun who then goes to find the boy," Donghyuck explains.

It's a simple enough plan, but something tells Jisung that sending Renjun alone would not be ideal. 

"Isn't there anyone who can go help Renjun? What about Chenle?" He asks hesitantly. 

"No," Jaemin shoots down immediately. "Chenle does his part and regroups with you and Donghyuck immediately. There will be no other fighting for him." 

Chenle opens his mouth to speak, but Jaemin sends him an icy glare and he clamps it shut. 

"I wish I knew what hyung was thinking, asking us to do this," Donghyuck says, shooting Jaemin a sympathetic glance. Tension rolls out Jaemin's shoulders in waves potent enough they're almost visible to Jisung. His disapproval towards the mission is even more glaring now.

"You know exactly what he was thinking," Jaemin mutters, quiet, but tinted with heavy  _ rage-annoyance-indigance.  _

There's an uncomfortable silence, before Jaemin sighs and gets up. His face is pinched, and he takes a moment to relax his features.

"Alright, it's getting late. Jisung, you won't be excused from classes except on the day of the mission so you better head to bed. Donghyuck, go submit the equipment forms. Renjun, be a dear and cook Chenle some dinner, will you?" 

"I want  _ your _ cooking though," Chenle pouts. "Renjunnie hyung always under-seasons the food." 

"I add seasoning as instructed in the recipes," Renjun says with a confused look. 

"You add like… one clove of garlic every time. Jaemin hyung, come on, tell him that you  _ have  _ to multiply onions and garlic by like ten if you're following an online recipe. You have to measure that shit with your  _ heart. _ "

"My heart has no measurement capabilities."

"Fucking hell—"

" _ Language,"  _ Jaemin reprimands. "Eat whatever Jun cooks you, and help him clean up afterwards. I'm gonna go drop Jisung off at his dorms." 

Chenle walks away, a surprising lack of protest from him. Jisung feels a bit like a stranger watching the scene unfold, but he can't help but find humor in the fact that Jaemin looks like a tired babysitter every time he deals with Donghyuck or Chenle. No wonder he rooms with Renjun; the one person who's obedient to his wishes without a fuss. 

"Alright, let's go," Jaemin gestures to Jisung, walking out the door without a glance back. Jisung hurries to follow, keeping his head down when they enter the lower floors where trainees loiter around talking to each other. There's a fight going on in one hallway, and everyone pauses to stare at Jaemin with apprehension, fearing for what he will do, only to be ignored. 

Jisung can never get used to this amount of attention. When Jaemin leaves him at the dorms, rather than walking in — knowing he'll be interrogated by everyone in there — he walks down towards the basement floors. Heads to the practice room, thinking of doing a little bit of exercise to clear his mind. 

Of course, things never go to plan, and the moment he steps in he finds himself face to face with Jeno, who simply turns around from where he was inspecting the walls to give Jisung a beaming smile. 

"You… Really shouldn't be here…." Jisung says, checking the entrance, paranoid that Jaemin might see. 

Jeno just rolls his eyes. "I'm not supposed to be  _ anywhere.  _ What's new?" 

"Yeah, but…  _ Here  _ you can get into really bad trouble," Jisung tries to stress, but Jeno just scoffs and continues examining the walls. 

"If I get in trouble, then I get in trouble," he says, plopping down onto the ground and patting the space behind him. "You look tired," he notes. "What's up?" 

_ Not a single trainee should know of this,  _ Taeyong had said. 

But it's quite obvious that Jeno isn't a trainee, right? 

"I got tasked with a mission," Jisung admits.

"You're quite young for that," Jeno remarks curiously, though his gaze is fixated on a loose thread in his pants. 

"Yeah… I'm not sure why they chose me for it, when I'm one of the most useless trainees they have." 

"Connections," Jeno says, wry. "You said that once. It probably applies here. What's the mission about anyways?"

A moment of careful consideration, and Jisung spills, outlining the details of the mission without much thought. It certainly eases the pressure in his stomach, even though the guilt of telling someone soon replaces it. 

_ Amusement.  _

Jisung stares at Jeno sharply at the feeling, a bit disturbed by the smile on his face. 

"I knew him," Jeno begins, when Jisung's stare lingers too long and his thoughts become too obvious. "He always talked about getting out of this place. I'm glad he got to experience that, no matter how short-lived once you guys get on his case." 

Jisung blinks. "Are you trying to guilt me?"

Jeno shakes his head, though the wry smile remains. "There's no space for guilt. Not here. You're assigned a task, so do your best to complete it to drag yourself into another day. Maybe if you do it long enough, you'll find a reason to do so, you know?" 

The silence stretches, as Jisung tries to comprehend the sudden influx of sadness combined with the depressing yet strangely hopeful words.

"Ah, what am I saying. You're just a kid. Don't grind your head trying to think about things beyond your scope. Let us adults cope with the crushing grip of reality for now." 

_ That's not true,  _ Jisung wants to say.  _ I know what you mean. I've lived it. Day by day of meaningless existence. What did I gain from pushing myself to be alive? _

A flash of a toothy grin and wiry strands of green hair flash in his head. He shakes off the thought. 

"You said you knew him," Jisung changes the subject. "So you  _ are  _ from the labs."

Jeno grins. "Sharp, aren't you? Yeah, I'm one of their current … specimens, I guess."

"Were you ever a trainee?" Jisung asks, remembering the rumors of weak trainees being wheeled off into the off-limit premises, only to be never heard from again. He's never seen it happen to anyone, not yet anyways.

To his horror, Jeno nods. "Mmhm. Useless, is what I was. They eventually got sick of trying and dumped me in the labs. That's why I'm telling you to do well on your mission. Whatever is hard in those practice rooms is but a speck compared to what goes on in there." 

_ Fuck.  _ Jisung has been so caught up in his own head that he had failed to consider the possibility that there could be something worse than training waiting in store for him. No wonder Chenle was so stressed about the prospect of him failing. No wonder Jaemin has been more and more of a hardass. 

No wonder Mark Lee had picked him for a mission. 

_ Fuck. _

* * *

He manages to sneak back in — or rather, the guards turn a blind-eye to him — without much of a fuss. Sleep is an entirely other issue, and no matter how much he tosses and turns, it refuses to envelope him in it's embrace. 

For the next two days, no one visits him, not even Chenle. By now, the trainees have realized he has a mission, but by some miracle, they don't pester him for information. That doesn't prevent him from feeling the hatred they emit directly in his veins, and it often spooks him into hiding in the practice room, shrouded in shadows and illuminated only by faint cracks of light. 

Jeno is often there. Waiting outside, never stepping a foot into the room after the first day. 

Jisung doesn't understand what's blooming between him and Jeno; nowhere near as precious as what he has with Chenle but never as complicated and convoluted as his relationship with his hyungs. Ultimately, it's an acquaintance built upon mutual comfort and trust. An escape from the labs for one, an escape from training for the other. 

The night of the mission, when Jisung huddles on the floor trembling with nerves, Jeno places a heavy hand on his back. His comfort is enough to dilute Jisung's own anxiety, and somewhere within that soft, tender moment blooms a hidden seed of friendship. No words are spoken, until Jeno bids him farewell and good luck. His exit leaves and emptiness behind that longs to be filled.

Not soon after Jeno leaves, Chenle arrives with Renjun in tow. Amidst Chenle's  _ love-care-concern  _ burns Renjun's judgemental stare, so Jisung is quick to brush off the hand offered to him, standing up and trying to look like he hasn't been crying for an hour straight. 

Chenle looks a bit hurt, so Jisung offers him an apologetic smile. He receives a tentative one in response.

"Where are the others?" He asks, looking around. 

"Jaemin hyung is still getting dressed. Hyuck hyung is helping him. We'll meet them outside." 

Right. Jaemin was essentially their main distraction, whether the plan would work or not laid mostly in his and Renjun's hands. He wonders how they feel with all the pressure on them, when Jisung feels like he's about to crumple despite not having to do anything on the mission. 

Luckily, most of the trainees are in their dorms, so the walk outside didn't involve much staring. Chenle sticks close to him and chats about nothing and everything, and Jisung tries his best to respond over the hammering of his heart, even though his words clog in his throat more often than not.

It's a cold day, and the moon sits bright atop the stars. Jisung passes time counting each individual dot until Jaemin arrives, and when he turns to face his hyung he thinks he almost throws up his heart. 

Jaemin looks  _ good.  _ He's dressed in a glittering black shirt with  _ way _ too many buttons undone, tucked into white pants that hug his waist snug and tight. There's a silver watch on his wrist, and his makeup compliments the color palette with smoky eye shadow, and lips that gloss distractingly beneath the moonlight. 

Jaemin catches his staring, and Jisung flushes head to toe at the _amusement-fondness_ that Jaemin feels. Next to him, Chenle screeches and throws his arms around Jaemin. 

"Hyung, you look fucking amazing!" 

"Get off him you little shit, you'll wrinkle his shirt—"

" _ Language.  _ And thank you, dear." Jaemin ruffles Chenle's hair, and oh wow, it seems Jisung isn't the only one with a severe soft spot for the gremlin. Chenle only snuggles in deeper, and something ugly erupts in Jisung's chest, though he's not sure who its directed at.

"What do you think, Junnie?" Donghyuck asks Renjun with a teasing glint, gesturing to Jaemin.

"I think he looks sufficient for the job," Renjun answers, confused. "You would know better than me, anyways."

Donghyuck groans. "Tell him he looks pretty! I worked so hard, come  _ on!" _

"You look pretty," Renjun repeats obediently, and Jisung feels suffocated by how  _ fond  _ Jaemin feels. 

"Thank you, Jun," Jaemin says pleasantly, letting go of Chenle to ruffle Renjun's hair instead. Chenle whines at the loss of contact, while Renjun merely stares at Jaemin with a befuddled expression.

Jisung feels very out of place. 

Luckily, the moment of domesticity is over, and they depart. One of the organization cars takes them near the venue, and the entire ride there Jisung feels his throat constrict with nerves, his stomach cramping uncomfortably as anxiety takes hold of his every vein. Chenle tries to soothe him with a gentle hand on his back, but it's a ghostly touch amidst the crushing push of his fear. 

When they arrive, he can barely stand on trembling legs, can barely feel them honestly because the fear has rendered him numb. He's so fucking nervous, it's unreal. 

The mansion is  _ huge.  _ Even from this distance, Jisung is awed by the sheer size of it, tall metal gates that lie in front of a massive water fountain, well-trimmed shrubs decorating the area, and of course the actual mansion so white and beautiful it sparkles amongst the dull sky. 

"Alright, Jisung, you're with me," Donghyuck says, gesturing towards a fairly large tree. "Our position is here. Just stay hidden and stay quiet."

Situated relatively far away from the actual location, it's now that Jisung realizes that he really doesn't have to do anything. They're off-premises, it's not likely for a guard to be patrolling near here. 

There isn't much to do but wait. Nervousness for himself becomes replaced by anxiety for the others instead, and Donghyuck catches his train of thought immediately, smiling at him reassuringly.

_ They're better than me at reading people sometimes,  _ he thinks to himself. 

"Don't worry, Jisung," Donghyuck says, punching him lightly. "Even if anything goes wrong, they're sharp enough to improvise on the spot." 

It doesn't make him feel better, but he accepts that there's nothing he can do. So he waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

_ Unease.  _

It's from Donghyuck, and Jisung stares at him warily, but Donghyuck's face betrays no emotion. Still, as the time passes, Donghyuck's heartbeat picks up,  _ nervousness _ pooling around him rapidly. 

"Chenle should be here by now, right?" Jisung asks softly, afraid of the answer. 

He only receives a careful nod in reply, but he feels what Donghyuck refuses to express. The steadily growing fear and worry that bleeds into Jisung. 

Sweat gathers on his skin. He tries to pinpoint them, wondering if his abilities can pick up their emotions from this distance, but it comes back muddy and indecipherable. Among the sticky clouds of nothing however, a light shines, brighter and brighter, until it stands right behind Jisung. 

His brain catches up too late. Donghyuck slumps to the ground, unconscious. 

And behind him, stands a boy.

  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mark Lee :O
> 
> Btw Jisung is fourteen here, Chenle is fifteen almost sixteen, Norenminhyuck are nineteen going twenty and Mark is twenty-two! 
> 
> So writing long chapters is definitely not my thing 😭 Gonna stick to 3k-5k from now on so i can actually update regularly. I hope that doesn't bother anyone. 
> 
> This chapter was initially meant to be longer but no way I would've ever gotten it done if i tried to shove it all into one chapter.
> 
> My soft spot for jaemle is really showing in all of my fics huh 😭 worry not, ill do my best to include every possible dreamteractions here lmfao. 
> 
> Kudos and comments much appreciated! Take care guys! I think I'll post another oneshot before updating this again.


End file.
